Henry Morgan's Dark Side
by foreverHenry919
Summary: While on the subway headed home, Henry sees a bright light in the tunnel ahead and soon realizes he's entered another dimension in which he is not on good terms with either Abe or his colleagues. Even Adam seems to fear him. But he must convince them he's not "their" Henry and enlist their aid to help him return home. Or will they keep him since he's nicer than "their" Henry?
1. Henry Morgan's Dark Side Ch 1

The subway car jarred slightly as it slowed down. Dr. Henry Morgan woke up from his short nap and, embarrassed that he'd fallen asleep in public - on the subway, no less - he looked around at the other passengers, both seated and standing. It was New York, after all. Fully-awake people fell victim to any number of crimes in this teeming metropolis every day. No need to make the perps' jobs any easier by dozing off and giving them an open invitation to harm you at will.

On the sideways seat directly across from him sat a woman with a girl of about six years old seated next to her. The child, dressed in pink overalls in blue trim and matching tennis shoes, eyed Henry with great fascination and she shyly returned his smile. He then thought to check to make sure he hadn't, God forbid, drooled. Thankfully, he hadn't. Then he checked to see if he still had his pocket watch and was relieved to find that he did. Satisfied that no one seemed to be in the least bit interested that he'd taken a little nap, he stood up and prepared to exit the train.

It also appeared that no one else was interested in the strange light that now filled the tunnel ahead. The bright, yellow light with a white hue at it's edges appeared to swirl counter-clockwise permitting an opening of sorts in the center to open wider and wider as the train approached. Panicked to the point of being speechless, he gripped the railing next to the door, shutting his eyes as the train passed through it. His panic level gradually eased as he felt no ill effects from it other than a slight pulling and snapping effect to his body. He opened his eyes and noticed that the train had reached his stop. Henry shook his head and told himself that the strange light must have been a remnant of a dream from his nap or simply a problem for the subway system's maintenance department to address.

He found a spot in the shoulder-shoving crowd exiting the car, inching slowly forward so as not to step on anyone's toes. As the crowd shifted its direction and headed toward the stairs and escalators, he noticed that the woman with the child was directly in front of him. But the child now appeared to be a boy dressed in blue overalls with dark blue trim and matching shoes. How could he have mistaken the boy to be at first a girl? He again brushed it off, assigning his prior confusion to a partial waking state.

 _'That's all it was,'_ he told himself. 'Just a muddled brain when first awakening.'

He eventually found more room around him that allowed him to jog up the stairs and out of the station. Once out onto the streets above, it was little more than a five-minute walk to the antique shop he shared with his son, Abe. The shop would be closed by now since he'd left work well after 7:30 PM so he took out his key and inserted it into the lock once he arrived. But it didn't work. He turned the key over in his hand, making sure it was the right one and tried it again and again. Had Abe gotten a locksmith to change the locks that day? Fighting fatigue and hunger, he impatiently rapped his knuckles on the door's glass window and waited. Finally, he saw the outline of a figure descend the stairs at the back of the darkening shop and pause.

"Abe," Henry called from the other side of the door. "Stop playing around and open the door. I'm hungry and it's been a long day."

The figure, presumably Abe, resumed approaching the door, although still a bit too slowly to satisfy Henry. As Abe, with a less-than-welcoming look on his face, gradually emerged from the shadows, he came to stand on the other side of the door. Henry was confused by this peculiar behavior. Abe was looking at him almost as if he ... didn't like him. Henry dismissed it as his son having found yet another way to tease him.

"Look, Abe," Henry told him tiredly, "I've no time for any of your games. Open the door, please." He gratefully stepped into the shop when Abe unlocked the door and held it open for him. While Abe re-locked the door, Henry sniffed to take in the delicious smell of tonight's dinner but smelled nothing. He frowned at Abe, surprised that there was no evidence of the dinner he'd been promised in celebration of the 11th Precinct having solved their 100th homicide, a particularly difficult one, with his help.

"No lemon chicken?" Henry asked, genuinely disappointed. "Or was it so delicious that you decided to eat it all yourself?" he asked, deciding to turn the teasing tables on his son. He chuckled uneasily as Abe brushed past him without saying a word and with the same unwelcoming look on his face. Henry's frown returned as he walked uncertainly behind his son. Just before they reached the stairs, he reached out and placed his hand on Abe's shoulder and startled at his reaction. Abe brushed his hand away and spun around to face him, his hands on his hips.

"You've got a lot of nerve waltzing in here all jokesy like nothing's wrong!" Abe snapped at him. For just a second, a new awareness flashed across his face as he seemed to really take Henry in, his eyes flitting over him from head to toe then back up. He shook his head and continued his rant.

"Best thing for you to do is keep your word for once in your stinkin' life and pack your things and move out like you said you would this morning." Abe backed away from him and quickly ascended the stairs. "Lemon chicken," he grumbled to himself. "You can eat dirt and die for all I care. And make your own way home from the river!"

Henry's mouth formed a silent O and his eyes jittered back and forth as he watched Abe hastily retreat from him in obvious anger. He searched for an answer to the WHY that now loomed large in his mind. What had brought on such an outburst? And ... he had said no such thing this morning about moving out! He pushed his hurt feelings aside and leaped up the stairs behind Abe, calling out to him.

"Abraham," he began before being cut off by him.

"And don't call me that," Abe said sourly. "My name's Abe, remember? Like every other halfway thing you do, you named me with a nickname instead of the complete version of it." He suddenly stopped and turned around again to face Henry. "What are you doing up here?"

Henry frowned further, pressing his brows together, desperately trying to understand his son's uncharacteristically combative behavior toward him. A sigh of frustration huffed out of him and he replied, "I suppose I'm going to slap together something to eat before retiring to my bedroom. That's what I'm doing up here."

Abe chortled mirthlessly, "Your bedroom's down in your dungeon, remember? And your dinner's in that bottle of cognac down there." His voice rose as his anger level rose when more confusion played over Henry's face. "C'mon, Henry, stop playing the innocent! It doesn't become you."

"Abra-, Abe, Abe," Henry almost pleaded with him as he quickly removed his scarf and hung it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He was mildly surprised to find that the coat rack was nowhere in sight. "I have no idea what you're talking about when you say I'm to pack and move out. I said no such thing to you this morning. Well, why would I?" he asked in answer to Abe's look of annoyed disbelief. But he pressed on, needing to unwrinkle this situation between his son and him.

"And, okay, you didn't feel like cooking dinner, that's perfectly fine. You work hard, too," he added, smiling. A smile his son did not return. But Abe was busy frowning as he tilted his head to the side, then bent closer to view the left side of Henry's neck. Henry had intended to rebut what Abe had said about his bedroom being in his downstairs laboratory, but it made him a bit self-conscious being scrutinized so closely this way. He lifted his left hand up to the side of his neck and asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Abe reared back away from him, still frowning. "Something's missing," he said slowly as if unsure of exactly what was missing. Then he perked up and said, "The scar from your knife wound." He pointed to the spot where Henry's hand lay on his neck and asked, "Where is it? You know, the scar from your original death."

Henry was thoroughly confused now. Knife wound? "Abe, I can assure that there is no such wound on my body. Sure, I've been stabbed at various times throughout my long life but you know all too well that the scar from my original death was the result of a gunshot wound." He frowned at Abe's frown and unbuttoned his waistcoat and dress shirt to reveal the angry swirl of scar tissue on his chest.

Abe leaned in, peering at the scar over his father's chest. He reached out his hand, stopping short of touching it. "When did you get that?"

"1814," Henry breathed out as he studied Abe's reaction. "The captain of the slave ship I was on shot me in the chest with his flintlock," he continued. "You know the story well. Or, at least, you should."

"I never heard anything like that before from you," Abe vehemently denied, scowling. "You died in 1814 aboard the Empress, all right, but it was from the captain stabbing you in the neck after the slaves freed themselves and took over the ship. The captain believed that you had stolen the key to their shackles and given it to them."

Henry lowered his head and compared the two stories in his mind. Similar circumstances, yes, but enough of a difference to make him begin to realize that something more had happened to him when the subway train passed through that strange light in the tunnel. He raised his head and stared at Abe.

Abe's contentious mood abated somewhat as he returned Henry's stare, blinking several times. He lowered his hand and reared back from him again. "And what happened to your eyes? They were greyish-blue before and now ... now they ... "

"What? What, Abe?" Henry asked, wanting and not wanting him to continue.

"They're more hazel," he finally whispered. "How is that possible?" Henry was shaking his head in confusion and frowning.

"My eyes have always been brown with hazel flecks, Abe," he told him.

"And your hair is not black anymore," Abe continued in a whisper, almost ignoring Henry's last statement. His eyes roamed over Henry's dark brown curls with chestnut highlights and concluded, "You colored your hair today. And contacts. You had to change your look again," he concluded with a smirk. "What? Somebody else you did dirt to caught up with you?" He smirked, satisfied with his conclusions. The scowl contained an unnerving look of disdain.

Henry didn't think he could frown any deeper than he already had, but he did. This conversation was totally confusing him. "If you are suggesting that I have willfully harmed anyone in the past and have adopted some sort of disguise in order to evade discovery - "

"Well, that hasn't changed," Abe huffed. "Still toss out a mouthful of words when just a few would suffice. That is, when you're sober." His arms were crossed over his chest but he slowly lowered his arms, placing his hands on his hips again. "But that wouldn't account for your original scar being moved from your neck to your chest," he considered. "And, wait a minute. You're a bit taller than me." He looked down at Henry's shoes. "You wearing lifts? Because there's nothing wrong with being 5'8", ya know."

"Abe, you know full well that I'm just under 6' tall. I haven't been 5'8" since I was 13 years old."

"Then, I don't get it," Abe said, ponderingly. "There's something different about you." He shook his head and turned away, walking to his bedroom. The first bedroom. "Whatever's up with you, though, I don't have time for it. And I'm too tired to be bothered with you right now."

Henry was confused. Why was Abe retiring to the bedroom that was his bedroom? "Abe - "

"Good. Night. Henry." he told him as he entered the bedroom and shut the door in his face.

A stunned, confused, and admittedly very hurt Henry stood in the hallway facing Abe's bedroom door. He rubbed his palms up and down on his pant legs then turned and walked into the kitchen. He pulled one of the chairs out from the table and slowly lowered himself down into it. He looked around the darkened kitchen and decided to do what he'd told Abe: fix himself something to eat and get to bed for some much-needed rest. These last few minutes with Abe had done much to tire him out. As he rose from the chair to turn on the light, he noticed the circular condiment tray called a Lazy Susan in the middle of the kitchen table. Quickly turning on the light, he returned to look closer at the outdated kitchen accessory that looked oddly the same as one that Abigail had won in a church raffle in the early 1970's but had burned up in a kitchen fire a few years later. He removed the ceramic containers from off of it and placed them on the table. He lifted the circular tray up and flipped it over to see the bottom. The small, gold label was still on it identifying in black lettering that the tray was a third prize awarded in a raffle held 12/20/72 at the First Presbyterian Church.

"How ... ?" How, indeed, was it still there? Had they mistakenly believed that it had burned up? He placed it back in the center of the table and put the white ceramic containers with hand-painted bluebells on the outside and the lids back on the tray. Squinting, he looked around, taking in his surroundings. There were other little things out of place here and there. Instead of an upholstered settee in the sitting area, there was a more modern, black, leather sectional. Henry walked closer to the sectional, his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed. Instead of the ship in a bottle on the mantel, the same ship, without the bottle, sat in its place. There were other subtle differences he noticed. A large, rectangular portrait of a well-manicured landscape setting that featured the long ago London manor he'd grown up in, now hung on the wall over the sectional sofa in place of the smaller, twin paintings of the same manor. And Abe being mistaken about his height?

Henry backed away from the sectional and let his eyes roam over the kitchen, finding the same small differences here and there, as well. Instead of stainless steel cookware hanging from nails on the side of the wall near the stove, copper cookware hung from a fixture over the kitchen island. What was going on here? He could dismiss things as Abe having redecorated that day, but the previously destroyed circular condiment tray? And the fact that his key no longer fit the lock to the shop? And those strange things that Abe had said while questioning his physical appearance and professing to have never heard the story of his first death by gunshot wound?

That strange light in the subway tunnel and the pulling and snapping sensation to his body came back to mind. Did that have anything to do with any of this? He'd heard of scientists propounding on the existence of wormholes that could supposedly transport people millions of light years backward or forward in space travel or years forward or backward in time travel but this was something different. He was at home. But his home was different. He looked toward the door that led to the hallway and his sleeping son beyond and wondered if he would be met with a similar brand of hostility from his colleagues if he dared go to work the next day. What exactly had he fallen into? One person came to mind who could possibly understand and believe what he suspected had happened to him: Lucas Wahl.

Henry quickly walked over to the landline phone and, thankfully, it had not changed. But he didn't know Lucas' phone number. And he couldn't pop over to his home because he didn't know where the young man lived. And it was no use to call 411 since Lucas had long ago let it be known that he only owned a cellphone. But, he realized, the Lucas here still might have a landline phone.

'Here? Where was here?'

He shook his head and called 411, hoping that his gamble would pay off and it did. The operator switched him over to an automated voice that spoke the phone number to him and then the system connected him. Henry held his breath, hopeful, as the phone rang but by the fourth ring, his hope began to fade when he realized he might be forced to leave a voicemail. After the fifth ring, though, he heard Lucas' breathless voice answer.

"Lucas!" He caught himself and breathed in and out deeply to calm himself. "Ah, hello, Lucas, this is Henry. I do hope that I'm not interrupting anything ... ?"

"Uh, no," he replied hesitantly. "If you're calling to sound me out again for mixing those two bodies up, it was an honest mistake like I said since they were identical twins, and - "

"No, no, Lucas," he interrupted although inwardly horrified at the thought of bodies being misidentified in the morgue even if it wasn't the actual morgue he worked in. "It, uh, your earlier explanation will suffice (whatever that was). I'm calling you on a totally different matter, hoping that you could be of some assistance to me."

"Uh, sure, sure," he replied. "Shoot."

"Well, I think it best that we speak face to face," Henry suggested. "Might I pop over there tonight so we can, ah, discuss this in private?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Lucas happily replied. "And I'm glad that you changed your mind about not wanting to be alone with me anymore."

"Alone with you? Why would I mind that?" he asked, wary of his coming reply.

"You know, after I tried to, you know, kiss you."

Henry blanched at that statement. Lucas had tried to kiss the other him? Although he had nothing against people having their personal sexual preferences, he had consistently preferred the company of women during the past two centuries. Other men had, at times, openly professed an attraction to him, embraced him, even. But not even his close friend, James Carter, had ever tried to kiss him.

"It's okay, though, that you're not interested in a relationship with me. Guess that honor falls to Det. Martinez," Lucas added. "That is, if she ever gets over being majorly pissed off at you."

Henry closed his eyes and shook his head, wanting not to hear any further of how the other him had damaged yet another valued relationship. First with Abe, now with Jo. "Lucas, I appreciate your candor, but if I may have your address to give to the cab driver - "

"Oh. Understandable that you might have forgotten," Lucas replied nonchalantly.

Henry jotted the address down and thanked him before hanging up, then gathered up his scarf and left the shop to hail a cab. During the ride, he mulled Lucas' words over in his mind about Jo being "majorly pissed off" at him. After his troubling conversation with his son ... well, with Abraham ... he wondered what exactly had actually set them apart from him ... the other him.

The cab came to a stop and he realized he'd arrived at the address that Lucas had given him. He paid the fare and stood speechless in front of the building. Double checking the address and determining that it was the correct one, he entered the lobby of what appeared to be a hotel with luxurious appointments to rival the Waldorf Astoria. Only this hotel's name was Wahldorf Astoria. Suddenly feeling very under-dressed, he approached the elegantly-dressed woman behind the check-in counter and she gave him Lucas' room number and directed him to the elevators. As he rode the elevator up to the penthouse - penthouse? - he could still feel the hotel clerk's eyes sizing him up and haughtily remarking, "Oh, you're here to see our Mr. Wahl?" Our Mr. Wahl? He could only smile at the realization that the Lucas here was most likely rich. He felt a tinge of sadness on behalf of his own Mr. Wahl, who seemingly lived paycheck to paycheck. If only he could bring back a little of this Lucas' apparent wealth and gift it to the other financially struggling one that he knew.

The elevator opened to a private hallway that led to an intricately-carved wooden door to his left. The elevator operator bid him a pleasant good evening and he whirled around just in time to smile and nod to him as the doors closed. Henry walked up to the door and rang the bell. He heard nothing but the door subsequently opened and there stood a barefoot Lucas dressed in black, silk pajamas and bathrobe.

"Welcome back," he greeted him and stepped away, allowing him to enter and close the door himself. "And I promise to keep my hands and my feelings to myself this time," Lucas said, raising his hands as he sauntered over to the well-stocked bar. Cream was the dominating color throughout the living space with tastefully placed silver and wood accented furniture and light fixtures. Lucas offered him a drink but he declined. He had to keep a clear head for what he was about to share with his young host. His rich, young host. Filthy rich, apparently. Lucas sat down on the fur-covered sofa and placed a bottle of wine on the glass coffee table with a large, thick chain and anchor as its support, and settled back, sipping from his wine glass. "So, what is so urgent that you dare venture into my lair again so soon?"

Henry took a quick breath in and puffed it out. He stood at attention in front of Lucas and asked, "Do I look like myself to you?"

Lucas half laughed, half frowned as he sat his glass down on a coaster on the coffee table and leaned forward a bit. "What do you mean, do you look like yourself? Of course, you do ... " His frown deepened as his voice trailed off.

"Do I look like the Henry Morgan that you know?" Henry clarified. "Look closely, Lucas."

Lucas stood up and stepped closer to him with a slight smirk on his face. "Sure you want me this close to you?" he teased. Seeing how serious Henry was, he also became more serious. "Okay, okay. Now, let's see here," he said more to himself as he took in Henry's appearance, head to toe. His face took on a more serious expression when he began to note some of the same differences that Abe had. After a few tense moments (for Henry), Lucas shared his observations with him. "What, uh, is going on with you, Big Guy?" he asked.

Big Guy. Well, at least one of his terms of address for me is the same here, Henry thought.

"Are you familiar with the theory of wormholes? That they could allow someone to pass through to other dimensions?" Henry asked, hoping that this Lucas was as much a fan of science fiction as the other one was. He seemed to have Lucas' full attention now.

"Yes, I've read up on them a lot," he replied. "What do wormholes have to do with you looking different from the way you usually do?"

Henry swallowed before replying, his palms becoming moist with sweat. "I believe that I may have," he paused, taking in a much-needed breath, "No, I believe that I have passed through one. And that I am now in an another dimension."

Lucas squinted at him, his brow slightly furrowed before scoffing and asking, "You expect me to believe that?" He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at him from his towering height. "Just because you think I'm some kind of fruitcake doesn't mean I'm stupid."

"No, Lucas, you are not a fruitcake - "

"That's what you called me when I tried to kiss you last Christmas under the mistletoe," he told him, interrupting.

"I - mistletoe - Lucas, you are neither a fruitcake nor are you stupid BUT," he said loudly when Lucas attempted to interrupt him again. "I need your help to get me back to my own ... " he searched for the right word. " ... dimension, universe. I do not belong here. Will you help me?"

"Help you? Henry, how do you expect me to believe something so preposterous as you being from another dimension?" he asked, trying and failing to control his laughter.

"I can prove it," Henry quietly told him.

"So prove it," Lucas challenged.

"You're aware that the Henry Morgan you know has a knife wound on the left side of his neck just above his breast bone?" Lucas rolled his eyes and nodded. Henry reached up and unwound his scarf, unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt, and opened the collar to expose his neck absent any scars. "What do you say to this, then?"

Lucas frowned and dropped his arms. He leaned down to peer closer at both sides of Henry's neck. "What the - ? You said you got that scar in a bar fight ten years ago. Ugly scar; looked like it should have killed you, actually."

Henry realized there was no getting around it. He hadn't planned to but he saw no way to avoid sharing his secret with Lucas. And, therefore, exposing the other Henry's secret of immortality. But he held no loyalty to the man who, among other things, was apparently a foolish scoundrel who gave little thought to the feelings of others. And if he was going to get Lucas to help him return to his proper place of existence, he had to be as truthful with him as possible. "It actually did kill me, Lucas. Well, not me, actually. It, ah, killed the Henry Morgan you know." He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt further.

"Whoa, whoa, Big Guy," Lucas said, raising his hands up. "You don't have to strip for me in order to get my help. But, have it your way," he added, lowering his hands and licking his lips.

"Lucas," Henry said, getting his attention. He opened his shirt to reveal the scar tissue on his chest. "The scar on the other Henry's neck is related to his first death. This is the scar related to my first death."

"First - first - death?" Lucas stammered out, covering his mouth with one hand, his eyes widened.

"Yes," Henry replied, buttoning his shirt back up. "Apparently, he and I share the same curse. We are both immortal."


	2. Henry Morgan's Dark Side Ch 2

Henry sat on the fur-covered sofa smoothing his hands over it and finding the feel of the material's delicate softness pleasant and the motion surprisingly calming. He placed his hands back in his lap over his crossed legs when Lucas reappeared in the room with a stack of slim books sheathed in protective plastic coverings. He sat next to Henry and placed them on the coffee table.

"I assume this is just part of a very large collection of graphic novels you have?" Henry asked politely.

"Comic books, Doc," Lucas dryly countered as he sorted through the pile and settled on one in particular. "No use in making them out to be more than what they really are." Henry nodded, hiding a smile at the incongruity of how this Lucas referred to his favorite reading material as opposed to the Lucas he knew.

"Here. Here's one that explains pretty much what you say you're going through." He thrust the slim book into Henry's hands. Henry grimaced at the cover's title, The Deadly Spiral, along with a counter-clockwise spiralling vortex that seemed to be pulling a very upset-looking teenaged boy and girl into it. Flipping quickly through the pages, he grimaced more and clamped it shut, handing it back to Lucas.

"Forgive me, but is there one with a less dismal storyline?"

Lucas chuckled softly and took the book from him, placing it back near the pile. "Here," he said, passing another one to Henry. "This should do just as well without giving you the willeys."

"Remarkable Journey," Henry read out loud. He flipped through the pages and saw scenes that closely mirrored what he was going through. When he dove in to read it from the beginning, his stomach growled loudly.

"Whoa, sounds like someone missed the taco truck," Lucas playfully assessed. Henry smiled weakly in response, wistfully recalling a surly Abe and the lemon chicken dinner that never happened. He perked up when he realized that Lucas was on a French-provencial-designed landline phone calling for a meal to be delivered. Lucas put his hand over the receiver and turned to Henry, asking if chicken marsala was to his liking. He nodded enthusiastically, smiling. Lucas relayed the request to the party on the other end and hung up. "Be here in 20 minutes, they say." He settled back on the couch with his arm stretched out across the back, his fingers rubbing the fabric back and forth just behind the back of Henry's collar.

Henry blinked and sat forward a bit, clearing his throat. "Ah ... Lucas ... "

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, I promised to keep it together," Lucas sighed as he removed his arm and clasped his errant hand with his other in his lap. Then he raised his arm again, bending it and supporting his chin on his palm. "It's just that you're so damn pretty!"

"You are referring to the other Henry ... right?" Henry asked, side-eyeing him.

"No. Yes. Well, him, you," Lucas babbled. "Whether it's his look or yours," he clarified. "I'm lookin' at a beautiful man."

Henry felt it was best to change the subject because he had no plans to satisfy Lucas' longings for either of them. A decision best left to the other Henry, he concluded. "Lucas, ummm, might I ask, if it's not too personal, how is it that you came to acquire such wealth? I mean you can't possibly afford to live in this style on your salary," he reasoned.

Lucas laughed both at the abrupt subject change and at the question. "On my salary? You're right. I can't. But back when Yahoo came on the scene and challenged Google as King of the Internet, my father had the guts to switch his stock holdings over. At the time, a lot of people thought he was crazy to let go of his Google stock and buy into a new and untried startup but," he spread his hands motioning them around at the room, "it paid off."

"So you inherited this wealth?"

"Not right away," he replied. "When he died, I was 23 and I only got $10,000. According to my dad's will, if I didn't return to college and finish within two years, I had to find and maintain gainful employment until my 30th birthday, which was this past December, in order to inherit the remainder of his estate. See, I was kind of banging around aimlessly after dropping out of college in my last year and he almost disinherited me. Which, I can't blame him, really. He sent that message in his will to give me one last chance to grow up and become a responsible contributor of society," he said as if quoting the last few words like he'd heard them many times.

"I see. And did it work?" Henry asked, genuinely interested.

"I'd like to think so," Lucas replied. "At least ... I'm giving it my best shot, you know? Hard to be this tall, this noticeable, and not be pulling your weight, you know what I mean?"

Henry tilted his head to the side and pointed out, "But you're past 30 and still working at the OCME, am I right?" Albeit mixing up bodies.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "About that. See, I had planned to take the easy way out and quit whatever job I'd found after the courts officially granted me the rest of the estate. But my boss was this weirdo strange-o ME who saw a lot of things that others didn't and who had an endless supply of knowledge that helped put away more perps and solve more cases than anyone had done in years. Decades. No matter what anyone thinks of Henry Morgan, it was a gift from providence when he walked into the morgue and started doing his thing. Made me want to stay and learn as much from him as I could. Never met anyone else - besides my Dad - that I wanted to emulate."

Henry felt an odd surge of pride at Lucas' description of the other Henry. Finally, an encouraging word heard about the man. He stood up and walked a few paces back and forth on the other side of the coffee table, his hands shoved down into his pockets. "I'm sure that you do your work quite well in the OCME, Lucas. Just as the Lucas that I know does. But how I wish that I could take back just a little of your good fortune to him. He hides it well and never complains but I know for a fact that he continues to struggle with his student loan debt. Even a sliver of your wealth would do wonders toward his financial stability."

Lucas stared at him, mesmerized, with his mouth slightly ajar. "You know when you talk like that it makes me almost believe your claim about being from another dimension."

Frowning, Henry took his hands out of his pockets and spread his hands. "You mean after seeing me with your own eyes how different I am from the Henry you know, you still have doubts?"

"Uh, well, you have to admit it sounds so utterly implausible. You could have had plastic surgery to remove the scar on your neck and," he frowned, confused, "have one made on your chest ... ? Like that makes any sense," he said, shaking his head. "But, Henry, people don't just walk in from other dimensions! It's something that scientists have talked about for nearly a century - "

" - more than a century, Lucas," Henry corrected him.

"But it sounds crazy!" Lucas exclaimed. "And that talk about you and him (now I'm doing it) being Immortals. That's doubly crazy! And impossible!"

"Does the Henry you know have any arrests for public nudity after swimming in the East River?" he asked testily.

"Yeah, but I figured the midnight skinny dipping was just part of his weirdo strange-o-ness. Wait. You're saying that you do that, too?"

"Has he ever offered any explanation for the midnight skinny dipping, as you call it?" he asked with a smug I-know-something-you-don't-know look.

"No. He's never wanted to talk about it," he blew out in frustration. "Gets upset if pressed." Lucas sat back and looked Henry over from head to toe. "Why does it happen?"

Henry took a deep breath and blew it out through his puffed cheeks. "It's what happens every time after a death. I, and apparently, he, come back to life right after we've breathed our last breath. And it's always in the nearest large body of water and we're always naked."

The doorbell sounded, signaling the arrival of their meal as the two men silently stared at each other. Neither made a move until the doorbell sounded a second time and Lucas rose and went to open the door. He continued to eye Henry closely with a considering look on his face while the delivery person set up the meal for them on the dining room table. Henry's eyes pleaded for Lucas to believe him. Once the delivery person departed with a handsome tip from Lucas, he motioned for Henry to be seated at the table. Both men sat down; Lucas at the head of the rectangular table with a white, linen tablecloth on it, Henry on his right.

"Well, dig in," Lucas told him, a grin of acceptance spreading across his face. "Later on, we can get to work on getting you back to where you came from." They dug into their meal, grateful to each other for different reasons. Henry was grateful that Lucas finally seemed to believe him and wanted to help him. Lucas was grateful for finally learning more about his enigmatic boss even if it was by proxy. Another dimension he could take. But immortality? That remained to be seen.

vvvv

"Thank you for that wonderful meal, Lucas," Henry told him appreciatively as he patted his full belly. He then pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. A little past 11:00 PM. He could take a cab back to the shop but it was late and his key didn't work to unlock the shop's door. Before he could gather the courage to impose any further on his young host, he heard Lucas telling him that it might be best for him to spend the night because of the late hour.

Henry hesitated for a second before replying. "I was just working up enough nerve to ask you if that were possible. I do so hate to impose but since I don't have a working key to the shop and Abraham is sound asleep, disturbing him may only fuel further discourse with him."

Lucas laughed and repeated, "Fuel further discourse. You see, I just love that kind of talk that just rolls off your tongue. Fuel further, ha ha ha. You mean he'd kick your ass if you woke him up and it sounds like you've already gotten on his last nerve, fr."

Henry joined him in laughter and Lucas directed him to the guest bedroom that boasted a circular bed, and a raised, oval-shaped, in-floor tub. It was also three times the size of his own bedroom. "Makes me wonder what the _master_ bedroom looks like," Henry pondered out loud. He undressed and changed into the cotton (thank you!) pajamas Lucas had placed on the bed for him. He neatly hung his clothes up in the walk-in closet before climbing into bed and snuggling under the covers. It was hard for him to believe that he had started his day's journey in one dimension but was actually going to sleep in another. The room gradually darkened after he remembered Lucas telling him to say "Lights", and he drifted off to sleep.

vvvv

A cab deposited Henry in front of the antiques shop that was, thankfully, already open for business so he could just walk in without fiddling with a key. Abe looked up at him from where he stood at the back of the shop behind the retail counter. As Henry nervously approached him, Abe finished a ledger entry and closed the book, setting it to the side. He placed his hands on the counter and, leaning on them, watched Henry as he drew nearer. Besides the awkward silence between them, there was something else that Henry sensed, for Abe's expression was not so unwelcoming now and more open but still questioning.

"Good morning, Abe," Henry remembered to call him.

Abe bugged his eyes slightly and looked away from him. "Not so sure if it's a good morning or a bad one yet, to tell you the truth."

"Why? What's wrong, Abraham?" Henry asked, concerned, and letting slip his favorite way to address his own son.

Abe chuckled a bit. "It, uh, it's just that. You insisting on calling me Abraham. The other slight but definite differences in you now." He chuckled again but with a slightly worried expression. "Not sure if this is a good morning for me since I might be beginning to think that you are not the Henry Morgan I've known all my life."

Henry raised his eyebrows but a relieved smile tugged at his lips. "Glad to see that you're in a better mood, at least. So, what inspired this change of heart?"

"Just ... these little differences and the fact that you seem to be a more likable person than he is," Abe replied.

Henry frowned slightly. "That is troubling to know that he has deported himself in a less than gentlemanly fashion. Makes me wish that I could speak with him. Find out what's at the root of all of that misbehavior."

"Not your problem, uh, Henry," Abe told him haltingly. He wasn't quite sure what to call this other man. "Seems to me that your immediate problem is getting back to wherever it is that you came from."

"Yes. Well, fortunately, Lucas Wahl has been a great help in getting some or most of what happened explained to me and he's promised to help me get returned to my rightful dimension."

"Good. Good," Abe said. "Is, uh, that where you spent the night? At his place?" he asked, lowering his voice. "You know he has a thing for you. You guys didn't ... patch up your differences - Oh! You're not ... him ... my Henry," he said, realizing his error. Then he smirked a bit and lowered his voice again, and asked, "Or ... do you swing that way, too?"

"Swing? What way?" Henry asked, genuinely confused. "What are you asking me, Abraham? I mean, Abe."

"It's okay. **You** can call me Abraham," he chuckled, pointing a finger at him. "I've always preferred the long of it to the short of it. But you know Lucas is gay, right? I mean, you had to find out last night. So did you guys, uhhh ... ?"

Finally understanding what Abe was getting at, he rolled his eyes, dropping his shoulders, and replied, "No. Lucas is a good person, and, I believe a good friend, but, no. I do not 'swing that way'." He laughingly acknowledged to himself, though, that this man, Abe, was just as good at teasing him to the brink of discomfort as his own son was.

Abe simply shrugged and asked him about how Lucas planned to help him. Henry explained about the strange light that had circled counter-clockwise and opened wider at its center as the subway train he was on the evening before had passed through it. Lucas explained, with the help of his graphic novel, Remarkable Journey, that the pulling and snapping sensation he'd felt was the moment that he had switched places with the other Henry Morgan.

"So, that schmuck is in your shoes now, walking around messing things up in your life?" Abe asked, incredulous. "You're lucky if you still have a job and friends and a home to return to when he gets through mucking things up over there!" Abe shook his head, ramping his laughter down considerably at the worried look on Henry's face and when he heard him utter Jo's name softly.

Abe quickly pointed at him and asked, "Hey, do you and the, uh, your Jo have a ... thing?"

Henry breathed deeply a couple of times before replying, "No, ah, but," he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I believe that we could have something if ... " his voice trailed off as he thought of the other, more callous man cozying up to her. And he, trapped in this dimension, with no way to protect her or warn her. "He wouldn't harm her, would he, Abe?"

"Look, Henry, if they know you for the good guy you are, they're gonna sniff out that rat before he has a chance to harm anyone. Besides," he reminded him, "you two are not exactly identical either physically or emotionally. And if she's as smart as the Jo here, she'll know how to handle that guy. You got a Mike Hanson and a Sgt. Joanna Reece there?"

Henry smiled at the mention of his trusted colleagues' names and nodded. "But our Joanna Reece has attained the rank of Lieutenant," he proudly informed him. "However, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before your Sgt. Reece becomes Lt. Reece," he quickly added.

Abe heaved a sigh of relief. "Then, your Jo will have a lot of help to deal with him." He put his hand on Henry's shoulder and added, "Don't worry. She'll be fine. They'll all be fine."

"You're right, Abraham," Henry replied. "Sorry. Abe."

" **You** can call me Abraham," Abe reminded him. "Sounds good coming from you. Now. Since, I take it, you're not going to try to report to work, let's close up the shop and I'll cook you that lemon chicken you wanted last night." Henry smiled and dipped his head in gratitude. Once Abe had locked the shop's door and flipped the sign to closed, the two of them climbed the stairs and went into the kitchen. Henry laughed again when Abe advised him that if he should meet Sgt. Reece before leaving, be sure not to mention that the other Reece outranked her.


	3. Henry Morgan's Dark Side Ch 3

Abe's Antiques the night before in Dimension One ...

Abe Morgan was upstairs in the kitchen putting the final touches on the lemon chicken dinner he'd promised his father in celebration of him helping the 11th Precinct solve their 100th homicide. He knew that Dad wasn't one to want to accept accolades for that. After all, people had been murdered, sometimes brutally. But Henry had reluctantly agreed to the special meal since his son was so set on doing something to show how proud he was of him. And that particular poultry dish was one of his favorites, Abe knew, so it hadn't taken much to convince Henry.

Abe removed his apron and tossed it into the laundry hamper in the bathroom next to his bedroom. He was about to relax for a few moments with a glass of wine when he heard a person shouting and pounding on the shop's locked door. More like cursing, he realized. He moved quickly to the top of the stairs and heard glass shattering. Certain that he was being robbed, he grabbed his handgun and cellphone from the nightstand drawer in his bedroom and stood breathlessly behind his bedroom door. He heard rushed footsteps first move across the retail area and then stomp quickly up the stairs. The voice grumbling out curses sounded familiar, though. Dad! He started to open the door but stopped himself at what he heard next.

"Abe! Abe, where are you? Hiding in your room like a bloody coward? Do I have to drag your arse out of there again? And why doesn't my key work in the blasted lock anymore!? Trying to lock me out won't work, you know!"

Dad ... ? The angry voice was now in the hallway on the other side of his bedroom door. It definitely sounded like his father's British accent but he had never used that tone or those words with him. Abe, totally confused and his heart beginning to race, placed his hand on the doorknob and twisted it to open it but he was suddenly knocked backward, stumbling onto the bed, as the door was shoved open from the outside. When he fell backwards onto the bed, his right elbow hit first and in slow motion, he heard his gun discharge and saw the angry countenance of ... his father? ... standing over him . Then the angered look turned to surprise, then horror as the man lowered his head to view a quickly growing red spot on his shirt and vest just over his heart. An equally horrified Abe stood back up and looked at the gun in his hand. He placed it on the nightstand and stepped closer to the now dying man who'd stumbled backward, dropped to his knees, and fallen backward onto the floor. But there was something wrong. This man looked like Dad but his hair was much darker, his scruff much thicker. And his eyes - greyish blue!

 _'What the - ?'_

The man was reaching up at him and mouthing something so Abe moved closer and bent over to be close enough to hear what he was saying.

The man grabbed his pant leg with a bloodied hand. "Abe," the man managed to say as blood gurgled up and out of his mouth, a thick stream running down the side of his cheek into his ear and onto the floor's carpet. "Kill ... your own ... father ... ?" He attempted a laugh but it only made him cough, causing more blood to gurgle out from his mouth. The wet redness on his dark blue vest and white shirt was now a growing pool of blood that shimmered as it thickened into gruesome, murky layers.

Abe was at a loss for what to say or do. He'd accidentally shot the man but this wasn't Dad. Who was he and why was he here, behaving this way and saying these things? Then his heart skipped a beat when the man breathed a last breath and in the next instance, vanished! Blood and all, into what resembled small, blindingly-white twinkling stars. Abe gasped and shot upright without thinking about any trauma to his back. He felt no pain, only the sinking feeling in his stomach that something extraordinarily awful had happened. For it appeared that this man he'd just shot and killed _thought_ he was his father. He'd also just died from a fatal gunshot wound to most likely the heart and vanished. Abe had witnessed more than one of Henry's deaths and the vanishings never looked like that. It was a brilliantly white flash of light that left almost as soon as it had come. But, whoever this man was, he was also some kind of Immortal like Dad. But where had he come from? How had he gotten here? Why was he here? And if he was here instead of Dad ... where was Dad?

The adrenaline rush in him finally began to give way to shaky knees and hyperventilation threatened to set in. He soon realized that the man might surface in the East River but who could be sure? And, so what if he did, since he had shown himself to be potentially violent and abusive? He wasn't going to put himself out by going to retrieve him. Assuming that that's where he rebirthed. All he could think of was to call Jo but it was only then that he realized she was already there.

"Abe?"

Jo's quiet, wavering voice reached him across the now suddenly quiet room and his head jerked in her direction. At first, he couldn't understand why she was there but then he remembered - the celebratory dinner. They had invited her and she'd accepted, telling them that she would be over later after finishing some reports. And Dad hadn't told her anything about his condition yet. What she had just apparently witnessed, he realized, would make it hard for the truth about Dad to remain hidden. He felt he had no other choice but to try do that, though.

Jo was frozen to the spot where she stood, breathing rapidly, trembling from head to toe, her face paled with a pinched expression. "What ... what just happened here, Abe?" she asked, lowering her weapon. Abe flew to her side, placing his hand on the side of her arm. She looked at him pleadingly, trying to understand what she'd just seen.

"I ... I parked my car outside and was worried when I saw the broken glass on the front door of the shop. Then I heard what sounded like Henry's voice coming from up here. He, he sounded angry." She stared straight ahead as she spoke but focused on nothing as he guided her away from the room and into the sitting area where he perched her on the sofa.

"I've never heard him that angry." She now looked at Abe and asked, "What went on up here? There was a gunshot." It wasn't a question. She had distinctly heard a gunshot but there was no longer a dying and bloodied victim on his bedroom floor.

Abe had walked into the kitchen while she spoke. He now returned to her side with two shot glasses and a bottle of scotch. He sat them down on the end table and poured them both a drink. He handed her one of the glasses with a still shaky hand and gulped down his own drink, immediately pouring himself another one.

"I'm afraid I'm as clueless as you are, kiddo," he lied, struggling to keep his voice calm. But he was clueless about some things. For instance, who was that strange man? How did he know his name and where had he come from? As they sat and drank, he filled her in on what had happened after the strange man had broken into the shop, culminating in an accidental discharge of his weapon, killing the man.

"But he, his body, just, just vanished, Abe!" Jo worriedly reminded him. "Or did I just imagine that?"

He shook his head and replied, "No. You didn't imagine it. It really happened," he assured her. "I accidentally shot him, he died, and ... poof!" he added, waving a hand up.

"Yes, but where did he - " Her cellphone's buzzing cut off the end of her question, making her not want to answer the call. As it continued to buzz, Abe raised his eyebrows and cut his eyes downward to her phone. She sighed and pulled the phone out of her pocket and quickly answered it.

"Martinez." A look of amazement washed over her face as she listened to the caller on the other end. "Did he show signs of any trauma like a gsw? ... Uh-huh ... I see." She leveled her gaze on Abe and told the caller, "Okay, thanks, Mike. I'm headed over there now." She ended the call and repocketed the phone, all the while continuing to stare at Abe. A trace of a smile mixed with the slight look of annoyance on her face. She stared straight ahead as she told him what Mike had just told her.

"That guy, who looks so much like Henry, but isn't Henry?" She tilted her head and turned her now unsmiling face to stare at Abe as she continued. "Just got himself arrested down by the Hudson River for public nudity." She stood up but continued to bore her eyes into Abe's, her smile given completely over to the annoyance. "Now how odd is that?"

"Wow, uh, ha! R-really odd," Abe stammered out with a nervous laugh.

Jo chewed on her bottom lip as she nodded her head and looked away from him and said, "Yeah. Well, I'm leaving to go and question him; try to find out who he really is. But there's something you're not telling me, Abe. So, I'll be back to find out just what the HELL is going on with you and Henry!" When her voice boomed on that infernal four-letter word, Abe jumped and swallowed. She turned on her heel and marched toward the stairs then turned just as quickly and marched back to him. Pointing behind her toward his bedroom, she ordered him to "Secure that gun" and warned him that if he tried to run and hide from her, she would track him down to the ends of the earth.

vvvv

Det. Jo Martinez rushed out of the antiques shop and raced her car over to Manhattan South where the strange man was being held. She knew that Reece was exasperated with their eccentric ME and his insistence upon sleeping nude and then, according to his unbelievable story, winding up down by the river. Except this wasn't their Henry so she was sure that he wouldn't be reprimanded this time.

But many questions swirled around in Jo's mind. The fact that she'd witnessed the man's death and his body vanishing just a little less than an hour ago in Abe's bedroom was the most bizarre thing she had ever seen in her life. Who was this man and where did he come from? And where was Henry? Jo shook her head to clear it as she pulled up to the police building and parked her car in front of it. And she shouldn't have been driving with that much liquor in her system. This was an emergency, though, she told herself.

Jo identified herself at the front desk and was soon following a patrolman to where the man who claimed to be Henry Morgan, was being held. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. There he was. Alive. She'd seen him die from a gsw to the chest and vanish and now ... here he was. Breathing. Sulking. Damp from the river and smelling of it. He seemed oblivious to her presence, seated in a chair next to a small, wooden table near the front of the holding cell, his arms folded across his chest. No blood. No wound. She thanked the patrolman with a nod and after a few moments of studying the dark-haired man behind the bars, cleared her throat.

At first, he didn't seem to react but then he adjusted his arms, taking in a deep breath. "Hello, Martinez. Here to take charge of me?" He slowly lifted his head in her direction, a tired but smug look on his face.

"No. I'm here to get some answers," she replied. Hmmm, she thought to herself. Henry never called her by her last name like that. It was either Jo or Detective.

He left his seat and sauntered over to face her. "You're not bailing me out?" he asked, eyeing her in a deprecating way. "Come, come, Martinez. Let's not depart from the usual routine."

"I'm not here to bail you out, Hen -, whatever your name is." Seeing him up close made her uneasy even though the bars separated them. The greyish blue eyes, the jet black hair and ... something else. She looked closer at him and down at his feet stuffed into dirty running shoes. He wasn't as tall as her Henry. He wasn't even as tall as Abe, who was 5'9". There was an odd scar on the left side of his neck that looked like a knife wound. Henry had an angry-looking scar on his chest, just over his heart. Why the scars? And when had she started referring to him as _her_ Henry? No time to dwell on that right now, she told herself. Finding out who this man really was and where Henry was, were her first priorities.

The man folded his arms across his chest again, eyeing her up and down. Squinting and raising his head, and jutting his chin out, he asked, "You decided to get rid of it?" When she looked confused, he clarified his question. "The baby. Your midsection's suddenly absent the tale-tell baby bump, as it's called now." He unfolded his arms and clasped his hands behind his back. "Look, just because I expressed some doubts about it being mine - given your history of entertaining men with one-night stands - you didn't have to get an abortion." He shrugged and added, "But who am I to stand in the way of a woman exercising her right to choose."

She wished she could slap that smug look off of his face; and his condescending attitude angered her. But she knew that she had to keep her cool if she was to get any answers out of him. This man, obviously not Henry, thought that she had named him as the father of her unborn child and he hadn't believed her? Seething with anger, she fought to control it since none of this actually pertained to her. But he thought she was someone who'd been involved with him; this, this lousy excuse for the dear man she knew to be Henry Morgan. Some poor woman somewhere must be deeply regretting having had anything to do with this guy. Her Henry was nothing like this man. Okay, alright. _Her_ Henry.

"As I said, I'm here to get some answers," she repeated, surprised at how calm her voice sounded. "First of all, I am not the woman you think you know. Secondly, it's obvious that you are not the man that I and everyone else know. Who are you and what have you done with our Henry Morgan?"

He let out a hollow laugh and said mockingly, "I'm hurt. You're actually saying that," he lowered his voice, tilting his head to one side with that annoyingly smug smile, "you wouldn't prefer to have me squirming around under the covers with you?" He rubbed his finger suggestively up and down one of the bars.

Jo bit her lower lip and looked in the direction of where the patrolman had exited. She then looked back at the repulsive man and stepped closer to him, smiling. Before he could react, she reached through the bars, grabbed his collar and yanked him towards her, banging and pinning his head up against the bars. At the same time, she unholstered her gun and shoved the barrel up under his chin.

"Listen, Casanova," she warned him through clenched teeth, "I now know that if I kill you, you can come back to life in the river. And I'll stand there and shoot your ugly ass over and over until you get it through your thick skull that I'm not who you think I am and you are _not_ to talk to me like that." She yanked him closer again, causing him to grunt as his face rubbed painfully against the paint-chipped bars. "Understood?" she demanded.

"Absolutely," he managed to croak out. She released him and shoved him backward. He ran a hand over his hair to smooth it down and adjusted his clothes, his smug expression now a dark scowl.

"Good. Now, I want some answers and I want them quick," she told him, meeting his dark scowl with her own.

Although he was still reluctant, she was able to question him further about what had happened at the shop in Abe's bedroom. The knowledge that she'd witnessed his death and vanishing, did appear to disturb him somewhat and he finally related his side of the story as to how he wound up at the shop in the first place.

"The precinct was celebrating the milestone of 100 murders having been solved with my assistance during the past four years. However, I was not in the festive mood. So after finishing up some paperwork in my office, I left for the day. Boarded my usual train for home and just before arriving at my stop, I saw an unusual light in the tunnel ahead of us. However, no one else appeared to react to it or even see it. But I did." His eyes widened at the remembrance of it and she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He was seated in a chair near a small table but rose and paced back and forth in front of her in the tiny space.

"The, ah, train passed through the light and it widened as if welcoming it. I felt an odd sensation of being pulled and then being suddenly released. Like a rubber band being stretched and released." He blinked his eyes and rubbed his hands together, clasping and unclasping them. She could tell that he was no longer focused on her or his present surroundings by the faraway and transfixed look in his eyes. It reminded her of how Henry looked sometimes when he was lost in his imaginings, as he'd once told her.

"I left the station, walked home to the shop where I live with my - (he shot her a look) - with Abe. Only my key no longer fit the lock and I broke the glass door in order to reach through and let myself in." He looked up at her again. "Perfectly legal. No laws broken. It's my home, too, after all." He then frowned slightly and sat back down in the chair. "Only ... "

Jo waited for him to respond but after a few moments when he didn't, she asked, "What? Only what?" A look passed over his face that spoke to the inner turmoil he was dealing with and for just an instance, it reminded her again of the Henry Morgan she knew whenever he attempted to mask his vulnerability.

"Only now that I think about it, I have noticed some differences," he quietly replied. "Subtle, mind you, but ... very definite differences." The right side of his cheek drew up into a lop-sided grin and he stood up, clasping his hands behind his back and jutting his jaw up and out. "It would seem that I have encountered a phenomenon as unexplainable as myself," he admitted.

Henry's _left_ cheek pulls up into that funny half grin, Jo said to herself. Definitely a subtle difference.

"And referring to me as ugly, Martinez?" he mock-frowned at her, shaking his head and tut-tutting her, "Good girls mustn't tell lies," he haughtily remarked.

Not wanting him to have the last word, she silently checked her weapon to make sure it was loaded. She then pointed the gun straight at him, her eyebrows raised expectantly. She triumphantly smiled when he bowed his head, raised his hands up defensively, and sat back down in the chair.

vvvv

Jo and this strange, other Henry walked out of the Manhattan South police station and got into her car. She started it up and wove into traffic.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked.

"A hotel," she replied, keeping her eyes on the road.

"A hotel? Why not back to the antiques shop?" he asked, irritated.

"Because Abe doesn't want you anywhere near him or his home," she explained. "I mean you did attack him and he wound up killing you."

"Oh, that," he replied dismissively.

"Uh, Yeah. That," she told him with a shake of her head.

"I thought he was - " He stopped before finishing his statement.

"Thought he was what?" she asked, squinting at him then back at the traffic.

"I thought he was ... the man that I know." He frowned, sighing, and continued. "It's apparent that I don't belong here," he said more quietly as if only to himself.

"Oh, uh, I wouldn't argue with you about that," she told him. "You are definitely NOT our Henry."

"And this is definitely NOT my world," he added. He uttered a silent thank you to the inventor of the seatbelt when the car came to a screeching halt. "You had me believing that you were a safe driver up until now! What happened?"

"First you die. Then you vanish in front of my eyes and pop up alive and well halfway across town," she told him in a breathless, rapid rush as she gripped the steering wheel. "Now you tell me that you're from another WORLD? That you're an ALIEN?"

"No, no, no, no, no. I'm as human as you are," he assured her. The look of doubt on her face prodded him to admit, "Well, minus the dying and vanishing and coming back to life part." He turned in his seat to face her. "Other than that, my life is just like yours." He pursed his lips and looked outside the car at the buildings, the people. "Everything looks almost the same. The people I know and work with. The same, I suppose. You," he said, turning to her again. "You're so much like the Jo Martinez that I know but ... " his voice trailed off as his eyes dropped to her midsection. "Different."

"Yeah, I'm not and never have been pregnant," she told him and parked the car more correctly outside a two-story Victorian home. She turned the car off and exited it, walking around to the other side. She motioned for him to get out of the car.

"This doesn't look like a hotel," he protested. But he felt it was best to do as she told him, so he undid his seatbelt, exited the car, and stood beside her on the sidewalk.

"It's the NYPD's kind of hotel; actually a Safe House. Move it," she ordered him again, flicking her head toward the house.

"You could try to be a little more civil, Martinez," he told her as he walked up the steps in front of her. "You're not the only one who's been traumatized by the events of this day."

Jo didn't answer but she kept her eyes on him while she called someone inside the house, identified herself and stated her purpose for requesting entry. A middle-aged woman in a plain, cotton dress and cardigan sweater (actually, a plainclothes female detective) opened the front door. Jo ID'd herself and her charge again. Once they were allowed inside, the woman led them to a bedroom at the top of the stairs. She unlocked the door and opened it, stepping back for them to enter. Jo thanked her and told her that if they needed anything, she would let her know. The woman left and Jo closed the door and turned around to face this other Henry.

He looked around the room and then walked over to the closet, opened the door and scowled at the meager offering of street clothes hanging there. "Surely, you don't expect me to wear any of these cast offs, do you?" he asked indignantly and turned around to face her. "And just how long am I to be made to remain here? I do have a life to live ... somewhere," he told her uncertainly, darting his eyes around the room. "It's not fair for a person to be imprisoned simply because they come from ... another ... dimension." He'd attempted to state that last line as if it were the most common thing for someone to say but even he had to cringe at how ludicrous it sounded.

Jo sighed, shaking her head. "It's late. And I'm tired." She eyed him up and down and said, "As I suppose you are, too," she conceded. Intensive questioning could wait until tomorrow. But because of his special ability to disappear and reappear somewhere else unharmed (she mentally omitted the part about his dying), she felt it was best to advise him to refrain from doing that.

He chuckled mirthlessly and asked, "You mean that I should refrain from obtaining my freedom via suicide, right?" He sat down in the armchair near the bed and sat forward, clasping his hands in front of him. "Ordinarily, I would exercise that option, but it's apparent that I'll most likely require your assistance in getting back to my real home. So," he said, sighing, "I will remain here as long as necessary in order to accomplish that." He looked up at her and asked, "Good enough?"

"Good enough," she replied. When she began to leave, he asked how he would get his meals. "Better get used to takeout. Someone will let you know when the pizza gets here," she told him. When he muttered "How barbaric" under his breath, she fought back a smile, realizing that he was as much of a food snob as their Henry. At the same time, the thought of Henry stranded in some other dimension, or worse, in limbo, caused an emptiness she'd valiantly been ignoring to present itself again. After composing herself and with her back to him, she told him that she'd see about getting some healthier, more appetizing meals to him but couldn't promise anything. She left the room and locked it from the outside after he'd offered her a faint thank you.


	4. Henry Morgan's Dark Side Ch 4

Abe's Antiques in Dimension One ...

Abe had just hung up the phone from Jo after discussing the other Henry and how she'd arranged for him to stay in a safe house for the time being. Abe had given her a pretty hard time when he'd tried and failed to get some of his questions answered. Mainly, where was Dad?

 _"What about Henry? Where is he?" Abe had asked anxiously._

 _"Apparently - Henry's still missing in action," she'd replied haltingly._

 _"Whaddaya mean missing in action? Did he sign up to fight in a war that nobody told me about? Missing in action?" He'd paused to catch his breath. "Sorry, Jo. I'm just losing it here." His anxiety level had not really dropped since the night before when he'd accidentally shot and killed the strange man._

 _"Abe," she'd sighed, "when I know more, you'll know more."_

 _"That guy knows where he is, doesn't he?" he'd asked accusingly._

 _"He, um, has a pretty good idea but - " As much as she wanted do, she felt it best not to divulge what the other Henry had told her about being from another dimension and most likely having switched places with their Henry._

 _"So help me, I'll blow his brains out and keep blowin' 'em out until he tells me WHAT HE'S DONE WITH HENRYYYY!" Abe had exploded again._

He'd apologized again to Jo for having yelled into the receiver but this situation was just totally unacceptable. And, unbeknownst to Jo, he'd figured it out. He'd seen enough sci-fi TV shows and movies to know that Dad may have swapped places with this guy and was now wandering around in a strange, other universe, trying desperately to get back home. Living with an Immortal, he admitted to himself, who had an Immortal stalker made one pretty open to even stranger situations. But what were they to do? Well, for now, he decided, nurse a continuously long drink of scotch until he blacked out. He'd murdered a man, after all. A man ... who couldn't stay dead. A man ... who wasn't Dad.

vvvv

The 11th Precinct, the next morning ...

Mike Hanson sat at his desk pretending to concentrate on paperwork that he'd completed 20 minutes ago. For that long he had repeatedly cleared his throat, and made other noises such as loudly sorting the papers and tapping his pen on his desk in order to get a response out of his partner, Jo Martinez. She hadn't taken the bait, however, and remained seated at her desk with her back to him, irritatingly quiet about her encounter last night with their strange ME, Dr. Henry Morgan. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he jumped up from his chair with the signed reports and walked them over to the outgoing mail bin, slapping them down into it. He then walked over to her desk and plopped down into the metal chair next to it.

"So, what's up with the Doc this time?" he asked. "He gets nabbed again for moonin' the cops from the river and he's a no-show for work this morning."

Jo sighed and rolled her eyes. "First of all, he did not moon anyone."

"You know what I mean, Jo. The guy's got a problem. I mean, he's a genius at solving crimes but he's definitely got a problem with this sleepwalking without a stitch of clothing on."

"It wasn't Henry, Mike," she said, her gaze fixed on her half-filled coffee mug, the side of her head resting against her hand.

"What are ya talkin'?" he asked, confused.

"He looks like Henry, but he's not. Some ... distant relative who's ... visiting for a while," she lied. Well, partially lied since he definitely wasn't their Henry and he was for sure visiting. For how long, she didn't know. But she was determined to cut his visit as short as possible.

Mike chuckled. "What? A relative? And he has the same weirdo need to skinny dip in the dirty East River?" He threw his head back and laughed out loud. "I don't believe it. Is this a Brit-boy thing?" He suddenly rose from his chair and told her, "I gotta meet him. What's his name?"

"It's Henry. Henry Morgan. And he's a doctor, too." It would stand to reason that he would be if he was Henry's doppelganger from another dimension. And since she knew that she also had a doppelganger over ... there, somewhere, that there would also be another Mike and Lucas and Reece and Abe. Jo hid a laugh that threatened to erupt from her with a cough. Her need to laugh melted away when she rationalized that if Henry couldn't return to them, they'd have to settle for this obnoxious turd. Just great!

"C'mon, take me to him," Mike urged her.

"Um, that's not possible right now, Mike. Sorry." She avoided his eyes, knowing that he wasn't going to let this drop so easily.

"Where is he? At Abe's?" he asked. "I'll just go over there myself," he threatened.

"No," she replied too quickly, he thought. "He's actually in a place where he can be ... watched and ... kept safe. For now." Oh, why couldn't she do this more smoothly? He was seeing right through her half-truths.

"Ya put him in a no-tell hotel?" he asked, surprised and confused. "Why? Is he being kept safe until he testifies or something?"

Her dark-haired detective partner eyed her as he frowned. He'd started to head out to the antiques shop but stopped when she'd replied. She wasn't being up front with him. He knew she was hiding something from him the way she averted her eyes and twirled a few loose strands of hair around her finger. She'd displayed that same nervous habit for the first few months after Sean's death whenever anyone close to her had asked how she was handling things. Okay, he thought to himself, two can play that game. He was a pretty good detective, too. And his impatience was getting the better of him, urging him to get to the bottom of this latest mystery surrounding their quirky ME on his own!

"No, he's not here to testify," she replied, avoiding his piercing gaze.

Why all the mystery, he wondered to himself. "Okay, Jo," he began. "Where's the Doc, then? Lucas says Abe called this morning about some kind of family emergency."

"Yeah," she replied. "An emergency." The strangest kind of emergency she had ever heard of in her life. That is, besides people dying in front of her and popping up somewhere else alive and unhurt. She hated keeping the truth from Mike. But if this other Henry was an Immortal, then, most likely their Henry was, too. And he'd hidden it from her. She was sure that Abe was the keeper of his secret for God only knows how long, so she didn't want to be the one to blow his cover. Immortals. Geez. And were they the only ones capable of stepping out of one dimension and into another?

"Look, Mike, I've … gotta run down a soft lead in the Muir case." She stood up and grabbed her jacket off of the back of her chair and headed out of the bullpen. When he offered to accompany her, she quickly turned him down with a weak smile. "No, thanks. I got this. It probably won't pan out, anyway."

He watched her disappear into the elevator and tried to convince himself that it was not unusual for them to act independently of each other but it was always better to have backup. So, he decided to provide her that backup (him) at a distance, whether she wanted it or not. Besides, his gut told him that the 'soft lead' she was running down had a British accent.

vvvv

Mike sat parked at a discreet distance in his unmarked police car and watched Jo park in front of the antiques shop and enter it. After about 25 minutes, she emerged from the shop but not before conversing with Abe for several minutes as he animatedly pointed to an overnight bag she now carried and she nodded and left the shop. Mike fought the urge to jump out of his car and corner Abe for some answers but he clutched the steering wheel to keep himself in the car. He watched her place the bag into the trunk and was soon following her as she entered the freeway and about 40 minutes later, exited onto a street that she entered from the left.

"What's in the bag, Jo? And where are you headed?" he murmured to himself as he struggled to keep her car in view, five cars ahead of him. He was pleased to see her finally slow down and park on a tree-lined street in a lower-middle-class neighborhood. Most of the houses had neatly-kept lawns and the street was lined mostly with updated bungalows, a smattering of newer construction, and a few Victorians that, oddly, stuck out like sore thumbs. When she exited her vehicle, retrieved the bag from the trunk, and walked up to one of the Victorians, he jumped out of his own car and jogged up to the house just as the door opened for her.

The door began to close but he blocked it with one hand, holding his badge up in the other. "Oops," he said. "One more comin' in. Det. Mike Hanson, NYPD 11th Precinct." The detective posing as a middle-aged housekeeper, Sheila Dunning, frowned uncertainly at him and looked at Jo, who reluctantly nodded. Dunning stepped back to allow Mike in and left Jo and him alone in the small foyer. They stared wordlessly at each other, their slight anger with the other showing on their faces. Jo, because he'd gone behind her back and followed her. He was her partner and partners were supposed to trust each other. Mike felt he'd unnecessarily been put into a position to have to follow her in the first place. He was her official partner, after all. Why didn't she feel she could trust him with whatever was going on with the Doc or whoever this other guy was?

Jo was the first to blink. She looked away from him then back up at him. "Mike, I don't expect you to understand right now, but I'm asking you to allow me to do this on my own." She stared directly into his eyes and when he didn't respond, said, "I'm asking more as a friend. Okay?"

Mike finally relented. He couldn't stay angry with her for long. "Dang, Jo!" He put his hands on his hips and heaved a big sigh, shifting his broad shoulders side to side and shaking his head. "Whatever it is must be real serious, huh?" he asked, his voice quiet with concern. She lowered her eyes and mutely nodded. He sighed again, caving in. "Okay," he told her. "But if you need any help ... "

Jo smiled and looked back up at him. "You'll be the first person I turn to." She watched him leave the safe house shaking his head. When he finally drove off, she closed the door and started up the stairs to the other Henry's room.

"Detective?" Dunning called to her and once she'd gotten Jo's attention, told her, "He's not in his room; he's in the kitchen. Cooking."

Jo left the bag at the foot of the stairs and walked down the hallway. Only then, did she notice the delicious aroma wafting out of the kitchen. When she reached the doorway, she smiled at the sight of the other Henry preparing himself a plate of food. He turned away from the stove and carried his plate over to the 1950's retro kitchen table with a white, formica top and chrome legs.

"Ahhh, Martinez," he greeted her cheerfully and placed the plate on the table. "Care to join me?"

It was so tempting but she reminded herself that he was not the right Henry. Her Henry. Even though in this moment, he was making her feel so much like he was. "Um, no, thanks," she told him.

"Now, none of that," he admonished her. "I've been slaving over a hot stove for the past three hours in anticipation of just this moment. Please," he said, motioning to the plate of food and pulling the chair out for her. "I so hate dining alone." His smile was almost as dazzling as Henry's and everything did look so delicious.

"Alright," she reluctantly told him and sat down. "Just a bite or two. I can't stay." And she didn't want to get too attached to this other Henry, who appeared to be displaying a lighter side of himself. "What is this?" she asked.

"You've never had Beef Wellington?" he asked, setting his plate down on the table and sitting in the chair to her left.

"No," she replied, shaking her head and hiding her amusement. "Not with ground beef."

"It's the only meat that was available," he said with a sigh. "But I can assure you it will not disappoint. I'm an excellent cook."

They ate in silence for a few moments and in those few moments she was reminded of the many meals she'd shared with Henry and Abe in their kitchen or on the rooftop terrace. Tears began to well up in her eyes and she rested her fork on her plate like an oar. Bad manners to do so, she knew, but she didn't care.

"Something wrong?" he asked, frowning when she stopped eating. "Not to your liking?"

"Um, no, it tastes great." Hamburger. Who knew? "But I really came over to drop some clothes off to you." She stood up from the table and walked toward the doorway. "They're in the bag at the foot of the stairs."

He stopped eating and smiled. With his back to her, he said, "Ahhh. You miss him."

"Pardon me?"

"This Henry fellow that you know." He turned halfway in his chair to look at her. "You're rather attached to him, I suspect." He looked her up and down and back up to her eyes filling with tears. His smile faded and he turned back around to his plate. "Does he know that you love him?" he quietly asked.

"What?" Jo demanded. "Look, that's none of your business. I mean, I'm not here to discuss my personal life." As if her personal life included Henry in any other way beyond friendship. And, okay, this guy had observational skills as good as Henry's but she wasn't going to discuss anything like this with him. Heck, she hadn't even discussed anything like this with Henry. "Thank you for the meal but I'll be leaving now."

"My apologies. Didn't mean to pry. But if it's any consolation," he started, "I strongly suspect that he feels the same way about you."

The tears welled up in her eyes threatened to spill over as she stood just outside the doorway, facing the front door at the end of the hallway. "How would you know? You don't even know him." And he'd only ever told her that she was his partner. His friend.

"You're so much like the Jo that I know," he replied. "And if he's anything at all like me ... he keeps people at arm's length to avoid human entanglements. Simply can't afford those, you know," he added. "People ask questions, personal questions about you, about your past. Questions that simply can't be answered without revealing the secret of being forced to live a long, unaging life. Must keep those things hidden, you see. And every six or seven years, abandon a life and begin a new one somewhere else." He paused, swallowing. "But something happened a few years ago to me - and to him, too, I suspect." Jo had walked back into the kitchen and sat back down at the table. He looked over at her, his own eyes moist with unshed tears.

"A young detective walked into my morgue. Her beauty unmarred by her hair, clothes, and makeup all in disarray. She stole my heart." He looked at her now with raised eyebrows and a sad smile. "I don't know how you and this other Henry fellow met but I suspect that his life and mine mirror each other's in many more ways than sharing a physical resemblance. I can say with great certainty that he loves you as much as you love him."

"Is this you?" Jo asked. She wasn't trying to deflect from herself; she was genuinely curious. "Is this how you really are?"

He chuckled and pushed his food around on his plate with his fork. "I'm afraid so," he replied, sighing. "In ... my own world, I've earned a reputation for being a total arse." His smile faded and his eyes darted back and forth. "Keeps people away. No one wants to be friends with someone who doesn't know his backside from a hole in the ground."

A smile broadened across her face. "You're a fake!" she declared, laughing while he shrugged. "Here you had me thinking that you were this God-awful snake of a man and ... yeah, I didn't want anything to do with you." Her laughter subsided and she eyed him more closely. "So, does being a jerk work for you?"

He lowered his eyes to his plate then sighed. "Not entirely." He pursed his lips and looked at her again. "Jo," he said quietly. "I ... sort of let her in."

"Sort of?" Jo tilted her head to the side. "Meaning you haven't told her about your immortality." He shook his head and she chuckled. "Well, if it'll make you feel any better, our Henry has managed to keep that little fact hidden from us, as well. Except, I think that Abe knows. He didn't freak out as much as you'd think he would have when you died and vanished." She frowned and speculated, "Maybe it's because he'd already seen something like that before. Who is Abe to you? I mean, where you come from?"

His shoulders began to shake as laughter bubbled up out of him, spreading his grin into a dazzling smile again. He licked the lower inside of his lip and heaved a breath in and out. Picking at his food again with his fork, he told her, "Well, you've figured most everything else out, you might as well know that in my world ... Abe is my adopted son."

Her jaw dropped and her eyes grew big as saucers. "Then ... that means that most likely Abe here is ... also ... " Her mouth tugged up into an uncertain smile and he dipped his head towards her with his eyebrows raised and his lips pursed.

"Those two," Jo said, shaking her head and smiling. She leaned forward, still smiling. "Henry," she began (and they both realized that it was the first time she'd called him by his given name), "what is your story?"

vvvv

"I look absolutely gauche in this outfit," the other Henry growled, scowling. "Where did you purchase them from? The Goodwill?"

Jo swallowed her laughter and schooled her features. "They belong to Abe. His, um, wedding suit from his first marriage." She swallowed again and said, "You look fine." He shot her a 'really' look and she added, "Well, since you're not going anywhere anytime soon, it's okay for puttering around the house." She gulped her laughter again as he marched over to the open overnight bag on the bed and pulled one garment after the other out of it, tossing them roughly down onto the bed.

"I do not putter, my good lady. I have never puttered around anyone's house!"

"So, you're as much of a clothes horse and a fashion snob as our Henry is," she stated, amused.

He continued to pick up and examine each discarded garment while he spoke. "If by that you mean that he understands, as I do, that a gentleman should always endeavor to look his best, then you are correct." He held up a light blue cardigan as if examining it for holes, flipping it frontwards and backwards then frontwards again. He turned around to her, still examining the cardigan with a frown. "I suppose this will do instead of this blasted wedding jacket." He quickly removed it and donned the cardigan. After checking his look in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, he re-entered the room in a less agitated state. Smoothing his hands down over the sleeves, he looked over to her, spreading his arms, for her approval.

She watched him with her arms crossed over her chest, her heat tilted to the side. "That's actually one of our Henry's sweaters. It fits you good."

"Fits me well," he said, correcting her. At her confused look, he explained, "The proper descriptor in that sentence is 'well'.

"Oh, I see," she replied. "You mean like that meal you prepared earlier for us tastes well." She laughed to herself at the look of consternation on his face.

"Dear lady," he began, "Although it is regretful that the King's English has failed to be properly embraced here in the colonies - "

"Colonies? Colonies?" she asked, feeling insulted. "I'll have YOU know that - " Her phone buzzed, interrupting her scolding of him. "Martinez," she answered. "Um-hmm ... okay. Be there soon as I can." She ended the call and pocketed her phone. "Gotta go," she told him.

"Dead body?" he asked. She nodded and started to leave. "Need some help?" She whirled around to face him again.

"No! You stay," she paused, calming herself and lowering her voice. "You stay here."

"But I am an ME with a pretty good track record, if I do say so myself."

"Look. It's best to keep your interactions with others to a minimum. We'll soon figure out how to get you and our Henry switched back to your own dimensions. In the meantime, stay put."

"So. I am imprisoned." He slowly sat down on the bed and looked at her from under a furrowed brow but with tired eyes. "Not like it hasn't happened to me before," he quietly lamented.

"Henry, I ... "

"Go, Detective," he told her, cutting her off. "Solve your latest case." He studied the mismatched throw rugs on the hardwood floor as he braced himself with his hands on his knees. "I will stay put."

Jo left the safe house feeling guilty about leaving him, ordering him to stay there. He actually hadn't committed any crime except for breaking and entering and frightening Henry's son, Abe, into accidentally killing him. Hmmm. Okay. But Abe! O.M.G! He was Henry's son! She'd almost forgotten. But as she sped to the latest crime scene, she knew that all thoughts of the two Henry's and Abe had to be tabled for now _. 'Concentrate, Martinez,'_ she told herself. _'This is a normal murder on a normal work day.'_ And she couldn't believe she had just said that.


	5. Henry Morgan's Dark Side Ch 5

Abe's Antiques in Dimension Two ...

Henry and the other Abe were in the middle of enjoying their early lemon chicken dinner when the landline phone rang. Henry started to answer it but Abe waved him back down into his chair.

"Best you leave the phone answering to me," Abe advised him. He walked over and answered it.

"Hello?" He clutched the receiver with both hands and eyed Henry anxiously. "Uh, Jo. Nice to hear ... No, no, he's, uh, not here right now ... I'm not lying! He's not here." He wasn't lying, he told himself. The Henry that she wanted to speak to wasn't there. Where he was, exactly, was a mystery to him.

"Oh, you got a message for him?" He nodded and opened and closed his mouth a few times as he listened, then raised his eyebrows, then cringed his face into a painful-looking frown. "Okayyy," he drew out. "I'll, I'll be sure to tell him when he gets back." He nodded a couple of times, holding his breath, then hung up. He began to breathe normally again and rejoined Henry at the kitchen table.

"That was Jo, wasn't it?" Henry asked, amazed. Another Jo in another dimension. Amazing.

"Yeah," Abe wearily replied and picked up his tea cup. "Best that you steer clear of her while you're here."

"Sounded like she had a message for me," Henry stated.

"For _him_ ," Abe replied, "not you." He shuddered, bugging his eyes. "Believe me - you don't wanna hear that message."

"Why? All Lucas told me was that your Henry had 'majorly pissed her off'. What happened?" he asked.

"You don't need to know," Abe repeated, shuddering again. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with." He sipped his now lukewarm tea and frowned slightly as he set the cup back down into its saucer. "But it's bad."

"Alright, um, I don't mean to pry," he apologized. "Just curious. In case our paths should cross, I wanted to be prepared to deal with any wrath she may rain down upon me," he explained.

Abe studied him for a few moments and then told him, "I dunno. Feel like ... I'm airing our dirty laundry, you not actually being Dad and all." He sighed and rolled his eyes, lolling his head around. "And I don't know why I feel like I have to protect that lout."

"Don't worry yourself, Abraham," Henry told him. "Forget I asked. And you're right. As long as I'm a guest in your home, there's no reason for your Jo and me to meet. As soon as Lucas contacts me with a definite plan, I'll be out of your hair." He grinned and added, "Forever." They both laughed at the double meaning and enjoyed the rest of their meal, including raspberry scones for dessert.

"Hmmm. Interesting," Henry said as he partook of the dessert.

"Interesting?" Abe asked. "Your favorite!"

" _His_ favorite."

"Oh, yeah," Abe said. "Well, what's yours? I'll fix it for you."

" _Blueberry_ scones."

Abe laughed. "He's allergic to blueberries, ha ha!"

"Doubly interesting!" Henry exclaimed, laughing. He put down the scone and looked around. "Still can't believe that I'm actually here in another dimension." He shook his head and added, "Scientists would be overjoyed to learn that another dimension truly does exist. Skeptics would be silenced."

"And bloodthirsty moneymakers would find a way to sell vacations to another dimension or real estate in it. Criminals would find a way to use it to duck the law."

Henry laughed. "Abraham. All anyone would be doing is trading places with themselves and finding that their lives are only slightly different."

"Well, believe me," Abe warned him. "If there's a way to make money on something, blood-suckin' moneymakers will find it."

Henry smiled and shook his head at Abe's jaded thinking. And something told him that in spite of his being content to hide out in the shop, he and this other Jo Martinez would eventually meet.

The landline phone rang and Abe rose to answer it. "Busy day," he muttered and snatched the receiver up. "Hello?" He nodded, grinning, and said, "Yeah, he's here. One minute." He held the receiver out for Henry. "Lucas," he said. Henry quickly left his seat and took the receiver.

"Hello, Lucas. Do you have some news for me?"

 _("Sure do. You're at the shop and in one piece. Great. Abe didn't give you a beat down.")_

Henry could see his grin through the phone. Eyeing Abe, he replied, "No. Abe did not give me a beat down." He chuckled softly at Abe's frown mixed with curiosity and amusement.

"Fantastic. See you then." He hung up the phone and walked back to the kitchen with a spring in his step and sat back down at the table.

"You look happy," Abe told him.

"Lucas has a plan," he replied with a wide grin. "I should be going home very soon!"

Abe raised his tea cup and Henry did likewise. "Here's to wishing you a clear path on that yellow brick road, Henry." They laughed and clinked their cups together, then frowned at the taste of the no-longer-hot tea.

vvvv

Lucas arrived at the shop 30 minutes later. He outlined his plan for getting Henry back to his own dimension. Based on scheduling information he'd received from a friend who worked for the city's subway system, Henry had boarded car #1814 that day he and the other Henry had switched dimensions. So, Lucas suggested that Henry should board car #1814 again at the same time as before.

"Lucas, are you certain that this will work?" Henry asked, frowning.

"To be honest - no," he responded. "But at this point, we have no choice but to give it a try. Recreating the scenario that brought you here might just work to get you out of here and back where you belong." Henry asked if he needed to be in the same seat and Lucas responded by asking if he was seated or standing when the train went through the strange light in the tunnel.

"Ummm, seated," Henry replied.

"Then, long as you're at least seated on the train in car #1814, it should work."

"Er, not to throw a damper on things," Abe interrupted, "but wouldn't my Henry also have to be in place for the switch?"

Lucas hesitated before answering. "It, uh, would be ideal if he were," he quietly admitted. Henry deflated at that admission. "Look, we can only hope that he figures things out himself or gets help from someone to get him into the right place for the switch." He looked from one to the other and reminded them, "Remember, he's no slouch at solving puzzles. And if each of our doppelgangers over there are as smart as all of us here - it'll work."

Abe scoffed. "Remember, though, what a pain in the rear he is. He's probably pissed everyone off over there just like - " He stopped himself at the sight of Henry's worried expression. "Sorry, there, uh, Henry. Don't mind me and my stupid cynicism." Abe reached up and patted him on the back as they sat next to each other on the sofa in the living area. "I ... I'm sure it'll work." He forced a smile as he patted his back.

Henry clasped his hands, nervously repositioning them, as he pursed his lips and moved his eyes back and forth. "Let's not assume too much. After all, he must be as eager as I am to return to his rightful place in the universe." At least, he hoped the man would be. But what if he decided to take his place permanently in order to truly escape the hostile attitudes of his son and colleagues? He did not want to live out this man's existence more broken than his own. His own fault, Henry told himself. For if the Jo here was the lovely lady like the Jo he knew, then the man had to be an insensitive cad of the highest order to have upset her. Henry cast a worried but resolved expression toward Lucas. "We proceed according to plan tomorrow night," he said.

"No," Lucas objected. "I think it's better that we try it on the same day. That would be this coming Wednesday evening."

Dismay gave way to acceptance on Henry's face and he nodded in agreement. "Alright. If you think that's best. Wednesday, then." He turned an apologetic face to Abe and said, "Not that you haven't been a most gracious host."

"Yeah, finally," Abe chortled and the other two joined him in laughter.

Lucas left with an advisement for Henry to avoid Jo Martinez at all costs. "It'll make your time here easier and it's his (the other Henry's) problem, anyway, since he created it."

 _'What vile treatment could this man have rendered to her?'_ he wondered again. Little did he know, he would soon find out after encountering the woman in question and it wasn't going to be pretty.

vvvv

It was a few minutes before 7:00 PM at the shop. For the past few hours, Henry and the other Abe had swapped stories about their lives and marveled at some interesting parallels and glaring differences. For instance, the circumstances surrounding his first death and that of the other Henry's first death varied somewhat, leaving them with different scars. But the ways in which he and the other Henry had met Abigail and baby Abe were identical down to the location, the year, month, day, and hour. Both Abigail's had kept diaries. When the other Abe had recounted the story to him, Henry pictured his Abigail's handwriting in her own diary.

"Astonishing," Henry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And we fell in love with each other and made a family."

"Yeah," the other Abe replied, wistfully. "We were happy for a long time." He lowered his eyes to his half-empty glass of scotch. He gulped down what was left in the glass. "That is until Mom left him in '82."

"Same year my Abigail left me." He voiced the words softly, remembering that painful time.

"I ... I lost it. Looked for her but couldn't find her. So I drowned my sorrows in the bottom of a bottle," he added; the shame in his voice, clear.

"Henry, my dad, blamed me for Mom leaving him," his elderly host confided.

"But why?" Henry asked. "He had to realize that that was strictly between the two of them."

"Because I drove her to Tarrytown and wouldn't tell him where she was," he responded loudly as if it were a cathartic release. "She made me promise not to tell him. Said she just needed some time away from everyone and everything. Time to think things out. She even wrote me to tell me that she was coming back!" He poured himself another glass of scotch and continued.

"I've always wondered if I'd done the right thing. At the time, I told myself that it was how an obedient son would behave." He sighed and took a sip. "I finally told him where she was and you should have seen him move like quicksilver to go get her and bring her back home." He set his glass down on the small table next to his armchair and stared into the liquid.

"By the time we got there ... she'd already died." There was a hollowness in his tone as he recalled that time. "Car accident, we were told, when she'd swerved to avoid a motorcyclist but she wound up hitting him anyway. The car she was driving hit a tree and she was pretty banged up. The motorcyclist lay on the side of the road with a pretty bad head injury but he managed to get up and stumble over to see about Mom. When he realized that he couldn't help her, he made his way back up to the roadway and flagged down an approaching sheriff deputy's car. He then stumbled back over to Mom but he collapsed. Then he vanished right in front of her. By the time the deputy got to Mom, the motorcyclist was gone. When the deputy asked about him, Mom lied and said that she hadn't even seen him." Abe's gaze met Henry's as he continued. "Guess she felt it was better to keep his secret, too, just like she'd kept Dad's. Anyway, the deputy radioed for an ambulance and she was taken to St. Timothy's."

Abe's anguished account differed markedly from what had happened to his Abigail. But he pushed his own sadness aside and continued to listen.

"As I said, Mom was pretty banged up. Broken ribs, a collapsed lung, lacerated liver. They operated but she died four days later."

Henry hesitated before guardedly asking, "Whatever happened to the motorcyclist?"

"The motorcyclist," Abe began, "calls himself Adam but moves around in the regular world as a photographer named Lewis Farber. "Photographs bridges, landscapes, farms, sky, and sometimes people. His photos are used in travel brochures and on travel websites and TV shows."

"The man I know as Adam disguises himself as a psychotherapist," Henry interjected, surprised at the occupational differences of the two Adam's. "Dr. Lewis Farber," he clarified.

"Hmmm. Well, it turned out that he'd been a photographer for a very, very long time. In fact, he'd actually photographed Mom, Dad, and me back in 1945 but didn't realize it until after he'd visited Mom in the hospital." Abe smiled weakly at Henry and added, "He'd tracked her down to St. Timothy's and visited her the day that she died."

Abe paused with a pensive look on his face. "Since he had tried to help her, despite his own injuries, she gave him the photograph of the three of us. Our names, the date, and place that the photo was taken had been written on the back of the photo when it was first taken.

Henry frowned, comparing the two life-altering events for both their sameness and their differences. But instead of sharing his own account, he saw that the other Abe was now struggling to control his emotions. "You don't have to go any further, Abraham."

"No, no, it's, uh, it's okay." He swallowed and continued relating the events that followed their Abigail's death. "Ya see, the motorcyclist was an Immortal like Dad. Can you imagine the odds of that? Said he'd thought for a long time that he was the only one. Anyway, while visiting Mom, he said he tried to tell her that the medication had her believing that he'd vanished."

Henry smiled at the familiar ploy he'd also used on his Jo while she was in the hospital recovering from a gunshot wound during their first case.

"Of course, Mom didn't buy it and let him know it. When she had him retrieve the photo from out of her coat pocket, she told him to look on the back, which he did. In that next moment ... she was gone."

Abe blinked rapidly as he continued. "I really think she thought that since he'd tried to help her in spite of his own mortal wounds, he must have been a pretty good guy and it was alright for him to find Dad." He looked at Henry again. "So they'd both have a friend. A real BFF," he said, laughing softly.

"Did they become friends?" Henry asked.

"No," Abe replied flatly. "Dad blamed him for Abigail's death."

"But it sounds like it was an accident," Henry said. And he couldn't believe that he was actually defending Adam. Even if it were this other Adam.

"Dad wanted to blame everyone, anyone. He never forgave me for having kept Mom's whereabouts from him. But Adam. Sheesh! Adam came looking for friendship but instead found the worst enemy anyone could ever have. Dad hates his guts. Says he's responsible for Mom's death. Says he should never have let her see him again after she'd seen him die and vanish." Abe sighed. "Dad says Adam showing up alive and well at the hospital sent her into shock and caused her to die of a heart attack."

"I see," Henry drew out.

They heard knocking at the shop's front door. Henry kept his seat while Abe went downstairs to see who it was. He topped off his glass of scotch and took a sip but quickly set the glass down when he heard raised voices coming from down in the shop. He stood up and began slowly walking over to the stairs, leaning his head forward, straining to hear the voices. At the sound of breaking glass and something hitting the floor with a thud, he rushed over to the stairs.

"Abraham! Are you all right?" he shouted as he flew down the stairs. He saw a woman crouched over Abe as he lay on the floor. "Get away from him!" he shouted at her. The woman looked up at him and he immediately recognized her. But fear and apprehension prevented him from saying her name: Jo. _'Just might get a beat down after all.'_

"Forgive me for yelling; I was overexcited. What happened?" he asked, kneeling down beside her.

"He tripped and fell," she replied. "Did you just arrive?"

"Ah ... yes," he replied, cringing at the half-truth.

"Ohhhh, that was fun," Abe groaned. "Help me up, will ya?" He pushed Jo's hands away. "No, not you. You're already loaded down."

"I'm not helpless, Abe," she protested; but he continued to push her hands away, accepting only Henry's help. Once he stood up, Henry helped him into a chair near a small table resembling the one he and his son kept their chess game set up on. This one had a silver tea set on it.

"Just give me a minute, okay?" Abe asked as he rubbed his right elbow, wincing. "Hope I didn't scare you too much, kid."

"You'd better let me take a look at that, Abraham," Henry told him.

"Oh, I'm fine."

"I _am_ a doctor. It's best that I examine you and I'll have no argument about it," Henry told him in a stern, parental tone. Then, remembering that he was not this Abe's father, he told him in a softer, but still concerned tone, "We just want to be sure that there are no broken bones or hidden injuries, Abraham."

"I'm fine," Abe told him with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just clumsy and embarrassed," he chuckled, then winced in pain. "Okay, you win. C'mon, help me get upstairs." Henry helped him stand up and then over to the stairs. As they slowly ascended, Jo followed behind them. Once upstairs, Henry examined Abe as thoroughly as he could using the equipment in a medical bag he found at the top of a hall closet and a portable X-Ray machine from the basement laboratory. When he was finished and satisfied that Abe had merely been shaken up, he put everything away and they joined Jo in the kitchen where she'd patiently sat the entire time. But he was thoroughly enthralled with the portable X-Ray machine he'd just used. Small, compact, lightweight, and whisper quiet. It amazed him and he wished that he had one of his own.

"I've never seen anything like that machine before," he said, grinning. "There's nothing like it where I come from."

Jo frowned, confused. "What do you mean where you come from?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Jo," Abe said. "This is not Henry. He's a ... uh ... cousin of Henry's."

"A very distant cousin," Henry supplied.

"Visiting from - "

" - from Wales," Henry supplied again. Was there also a Wales here? "This is not hair color and I'm taller than the Henry you know because," he laughed nervously, "I'm simply not him." He could see that Jo was skeptical. "I can prove it," he told her, his features flattening into seriousness.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Okay. Prove it. But if this is another one of your stupid tricks, Henry ... "

"I can assure you. No tricks. Now, the Henry you know has a scar from a knife wound on the side of his neck, am I correct?" he asked. She sighed tiredly and nodded, still skeptical; her arms crossed and head tilted to the side to show her annoyance. He undid the two top buttons on his shirt and showed his neck to her devoid of any scars. Her reaction was the same as Abe's and Lucas' had been.

"Where ... ?" she reached out as if she were going to touch his neck where she'd expected to see the scar, but pulled her hand back. "What's going on?" she demanded, looking back and forth between the two men.

Henry performed the same semi-striptease for her as he'd done for Lucas. "Does the Henry Morgan you know have a scar like this?" He felt that for now it was best not to overwhelm her with too many supernatural things. One at a time, he told himself. Especially since he'd noticed that she was with child.

Jo stared at Henry, perplexed. Henry stared back at her out of curiosity and alarm. For she was at least six months on but who was the father? Lucas had said that she was 'majorly pissed off' at the other man. Could it be that he was the father and he had rejected her and the baby? A cad and a scoundrel, if he had!

"Okay. I see it now. Different hair and eye colors," Jo said, nodding and uncrossing her arms. "Sorry. But you still look a lot like him." She looked him up and down again and asked, "You're not the same vain jerk he is, are you?"

"Jo - ," Abe started before Henry interrupted him.

"No, no, no, it's alright, Abraham," Henry told him. "I'd like to think that a smidgen of vanity is a good thing for anyone to have. Helps one to adopt good grooming practices and healthy eating habits in order to always present themselves at their best. But as far as being a jerk? I suppose to some," he admitted, cocking his head to the side and raising his eyebrows. "However, I like to think that my good points outweigh my bad ones."

Abe chuckled. "Your responses drag a thesaurus along with them, too."

"Well, I hope that you treat your women better than he does," she tersely replied.

Henry's heart sank at the quiet coldness in her voice. This other him had managed to hurt her. What type of idiot was he?

"Detective, I'm genuinely sorry for whatever ... my cousin has done to you to make you so upset," he told her, feeling very strongly that she was owed an apology even if it came from him.

"Doesn't matter," Jo told him. "But thank you for the apology. That was ... nice," she told him, grimacing, for 'nice' hadn't seemed to go with anyone named Henry Morgan, to her, in a long time. She looked at Abe and said, "Sorry I accused you of lying to me about Henry not being here. It's just that ... "

"What, Jo?" Abe asked.

She took in a deep breath and sighed it out before responding. "He had finally agreed to a DNA test ... "

" ... to prove that he's the father of your unborn child," Henry finished for her. "Is that it? He had the audacity to deny being the father?" As much as he didn't want to, his dislike for his doppelganger was growing stronger. Probably wasn't too healthy to despise someone that was supposed to be your mirror image. Promoted bad cosmic energy, or something. Despite feeling that way, he told her, "Then he's a fool. Sorry, Abraham."

Abe raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"He was supposed to have taken the test today but ... " She turned to Abe and asked when he would be back.

"Uh, uh, sorry, Jo, he didn't mention anything to me about it and - "

"It's my fault, actually," Henry interrupted with what he knew was a weak smile and, admittedly, an even weaker lie. "A practical joke. I ... sent him on a wild goose chase. Something we always did to each other when we were younger." The lie was only half a lie. The practical jokes were something that he and his younger brother, Thomas, had engaged in even up until his transformation when they were both in their 30's. "If I had known of this important commitment - "

"Henry avoids commitment," she interrupted; her tone dry, wearied. "Just tell him to call me when he gets back." She began to leave then paused, remembering something. Pulling something out of her purse, she held it out to Abe.

"Almost forgot. Could you see that he gets this? It's the DNA testing kit." Abe took it from her and smiled, nodding. "Nice meeting you, um ... ?" she asked, frowning at Henry.

"It's Henry. Henry Morgan, actually," he replied. At her look of amused surprise, he explained, "A popular name passed down in our family."

"And I heard you say that you're a doctor?"

"Yes. Yes. An ME, actually."

Her mouth hung open a couple of seconds and then she said, "You two are almost mirror images of each other, then." Henry slowly rolled his eyes toward Abe, who stifled his laughter. She bid them a final goodbye and left the shop.

"Well, that didn't go as badly as I thought it would," Abe said, sighing in relief.

"Yes," Henry replied, releasing his own relieved sigh. "At least I didn't get a 'beat down'." They both laughed and returned to the living area.


	6. Henry Morgan's Dark Side Ch 6

Dimension One, a new crime scene ...

Jo had received the call from Mike about a young couple found dead in their apartment on East 6th Street just as she'd begun driving away from the safe house.

"Probably another murder-suicide or one of those even dumber suicide pacts," she muttered out loud as she drove, annoyed with the universe. Actually, she didn't know which type of double murder was dumber. But she did know that a universe that not only allowed room for Immortals to exist and for them to be able to switch dimensions; and for all the normal stuff, good and bad, to fall in her lap was a bit more than her brain and her heart could easily deal with.

vvvv

"What do we got?" she tiredly asked Mike as they met in the crime scene's living room and walked down the hallway and into the bedroom.

"Nathan Bishop," he replied, pointing to the man's body sprawled face down on the floor at the foot of the bed. "Paula Frierson." He nodded to the woman's body on the bed in a fetal position. "Both 26 years old," he continued, reading from his notes. "Super says they moved in a couple of months ago. Neighbors say they were friendly and outgoing. Active in their church. He's a youth minister, she's the songstress."

Jo gave him a look and said, "Soloist."

"Soloist," he said. "Sorry. Her regular job was as a violinist with the NY Symphony. He taught dance at Julliard."

"Who found them?" Jo asked.

"Neighbor two doors down, a, uh, Mrs. Alouetta Periwinkle." Jo raised an amused eyebrow at the antiquated-sounding name. "I know," he replied and closed up his small notepad. "She said they trusted her with a key to their apartment and she checked up on them now and then to feed the fish. Liked them because they reminded her of her own son and daughter-in-law. Looked like the stomach flu to her so she delayed calling 911. Said she thought that all they needed was rest and plenty of fluids."

Jo frowned as she studied the clammy bodies; their faces evidencing exhaustion from a drawn out illness and painful demise. Then, at the vomit and other human excrement leading from the bed onto the floor and into the small bathroom. "This is much worse than any flu," she said, indignance seeping into her voice. "Is this Mrs. Periwinkle blind or senile or something?"

"Not blind," he replied. "Senile, maybe. Doc say when he was coming back?" he asked. Earlier, he'd wanted to know out of rebellious curiosity where their quirky ME was but now he really missed the man and his proven observational skills.

"Um, no," she replied. "But soon, hopefully. Where's Lucas?" she asked, genuinely surprised not to see him there.

"He bailed as soon as he saw all this," Mike replied. "Got him outta here in the nick of time before he contaminated the crime scene with his own - "

"Just ... stop right there," Jo said, palming her hand at him. "I get it."

"Paramedics tended to him, then he took a cab," he softly chuckled. "Home, I guess. Pretty shook up." Mike spread his hands and shrugged when she frowned at him. "Well, he's not Henry. Henry would love to dig his hands into a crime scene like this."

"I hope you mean that figuratively," she told him, grimacing at the image of a gleeful Henry up to his elbows in the mess.

"No, literally. The guy's good but he's weird," Mike replied. "Now we're left with that Washington to try to figure things out." He shook his head and added, "Guy doesn't inspire a whole lot of confidence in me."

"You, me, everybody else," Jo agreed, chuckling. But she had an idea. Their ME would have an answer for them in short order, she was sure. But since he wasn't here, might as well utilize the next best thing: the other Henry. She took out her phone and began snapping pictures of the crime scene.

"What are you doing?" Mike asked. "CSU is taking all the pics we need. But what we really need is for Henry to be here."

"Just want my own record," she distractedly replied as she focused and snapped. "Just in case we haven't solved it by the time Henry returns," she added. That actually was the truth. Well, partially, since she was willing to bet that this other Henry was just as capable at crime solving. But not disclosing anything else to Mike about Henry's absence and his replacement knotted her stomach. Mike was her partner and she knew that he was trying hard to honor her request for him to allow her to deal with a certain situation alone. The 'Henry' situation. But how much longer could she keep him in the dark, she wondered? After all, Mike had tracked her down to the house where the other Henry was.

"Let's get out of their way," she told Mike, referring to the CSU. They left the apartment to question Mrs. Periwinkle, who basically repeated her earlier statement to Mike.

vvvv

Jo and Mike flanked Lt. Reece on either side of her as they walked from her office to the elevators, finally at the end of their long day. They shared the results of their interview with Mrs. Periwinkle, the deceased couple's elderly neighbor.

"So, according to the both of you, this sweet, little old lady thought they simply had upset stomachs and that's why she delayed calling 911 for them." Reece stated more than asked. She knew her detectives, sensing their reluctance to be skeptical of the woman for fear of being disrespectful.

"Well, she seemed ... believable," Jo replied. Mike nodded his head in agreement.

"What does your gut tell you?" Reece asked as she punched the elevator's call button.

"Don't discount anything or anyone," Mike replied with Jo nodding this time.

"Without Henry, you're going to have to dig deeper into how they were poisoned, if that's what you believe," she paused as they both nodded. She then smiled and said, "You know, he'd have this solved in no time if he were here. No offense, but he does have a way of doing that."

 _'If he were here,'_ Jo thought to herself. Well, she knew of the next best thing: the other Henry. And the sooner she could share the crime scene photos with him and pick his brain, the better.

vvvv

The next day ...

"Ahhh, Martinez," the other Henry greeted Jo as she walked into the house's kitchen where he was enjoying breakfast. "Change your mind on having me help you solve your latest mystery?"

"You might say that," Jo replied, feeling more than a little déjà vu. She recalled a similar exchange she'd had with her Henry in early 2015 when she'd shown up at the shop with an aged, black-and-white photo of a smiling couple with a baby, and his gold pocket watch.

 _"Hello, Detective. Have you another mystery for me to solve?"_

 _"You, um, might say that," she'd replied, and held his watch out to him._

This time she held out a different item to this different man. "These are crime scene photos I took with my phone from our latest case," she told him. "I managed to print them out before coming over here."

"And just what do you expect me to do with these?" he asked. Before she could answer, he asked, "And should you even be showing these to me since I am not authorized to help the NYPD in this dimension," he calmly pointed out. "I'm not supposed to even be here," he muttered more to himself.

"True," she admitted, "but I was hoping that you could still help since you have nothing else to do right now but sit and wallow in self-pity." That earned her a disparaging look from him.

"My good woman, I have not been wallowing ... much. But I have been weighing my options with an earnest desire to find out how to return to my rightful place." He focused once again on his meal by jabbing the eggs with his fork. "And you can get your precious Henry back," he grumbled under his breath.

"Look," she said, sitting down, "it's true that Henry's input would be a big help to us, as usual, but since you possess many of his same gifts and talents, I thought that your input would be just as valuable."

"Please don't try to use flattery on me, Martinez," he said wearily. "It won't work."

She sighed while she closed and opened her eyes, lolling her head around. "All I know is that once this case is closed, my partner and I will be forced to move on to other cases. A potential killer will have gotten away because the COD will probably be ruled a bad case of food poisoning or flu and diarrhea by that surly, gloss-over ME, Washington."

"Washington? You have one of those, too?!" He pushed the plate of food away from him, grabbed the photos, and began studying them one by one with a frown of concentration. Jo smiled as she knew the look so well. Sometimes all her Henry had to hear was the man's name - Washington - and he'd switch into high gear whenever necessary to disprove his surly colleague's COD rulings.

The other Immortal ME spread the three photos in front of him on the table then sighed as he leaned back in his chair and looked at her. "You are aware that I will need to examine the bodies." It was more a statement than a question, feeling that he had her over a barrel.

"Impossible," she replied. She waited for him to reply, seeing him deflate somewhat. "Your credentials would have to be checked out and nothing's going to come up for you. Not even fake stuff like for ... "

He scoffed and folded his arms. "Your Henry?" he finished for her, chuckling as she tried to hide her blush by rolling her eyes. Then he sighed and unfolded his arms, choosing to let her off the hook. "I will study these further but I'll also need any forensic and witness statements."

She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it, giving it to him. It was a copy of her notes from when she and Mike had jointly interviewed Mrs. Periwinkle. He picked it up and skimmed over it. "Is this witness interview the only one?" She nodded. "Hmmm, you suspect her, right?" She nodded again. "Smart," he said, nodding. "Little old ladies are notorious for hiding their sinister sides behind their floral dresses and lavender perfume."

"Ran into more than one sinister old lady in your time?" she asked teasingly. "Not all of them are sinister, Morgan." Even though she'd called him Henry earlier, she had to mentally distinguish between the two men in her mind. This one was Morgan. Others had begun to joke and even she had to admit how her voice gently caressed her ME's first name.

Images of his Abigail fleeted across his mind and he became temporarily lost in the memory of her smile, the way she'd worn her hair, the way she'd fit so comfortably into the crook of his arm. "I stand corrected, Martinez," he replied warmly and then cleared his throat.

"If I help you to do this, will you do something for me?" he asked guardedly.

"Depends on what it is and if I can," she replied truthfully.

"Is there a scientist or physicist, perhaps, who might be able to help your friend and me resume our rightful places? No offense, Martinez, but I need help from someone with a greater understanding of what has happened to us. Now, I'm sure that your friend is also trying to find someone to help him," he told her. "It must be someone who can be trusted not to share anything about me with anyone else."

"No one immediately comes to mind," she stated. Then a thought came to her. "Come to think of it, I do know someone." She grinned at him and added, "And he can be trusted to keep things secret about you and our Henry."

"And you're certain of this?"

"Absolutely. He simply adores his boss and should take quite a shine to you," she replied, smirking.

"His boss? Hmmm. Well. Who is this man?"

"Henry's trusted assistant, Lucas Wahl."

"Oh. Dear Lord. I almost forgot. You have one of _those_ , too."


	7. Henry Morgan's Dark Side Ch 7

Henry and the other Abe had just sat down in the living area when the landline phone rang. Abe rose to answer it, grumbling something about yanking the cord out of the wall. While he spoke to the caller, Henry smiled at the man's lovable grumpiness, so much like that of his own son's.

"That was Jo," he told Henry as he sat back down next to him. "Wants me to relay a message to Dad to get over to a crime scene ASAP at the Heritage Arms on East 6th Street."

"Which, of course, you can't," Henry observed.

"She's gonna be pissed if he doesn't show up soon or contact her," Abe said, sighing.

"You mean more than she already is," Henry said.

The Heritage Arms in his dimension was also on East 6th Street and was a historic, residential hotel that had caught fire last month while undergoing renovations. The Fire Marshall had ruled it arson and after a body was found, Henry and his teammates had become involved to help track down the culprit, which they did. So he knew the layout of the building well. It would be so simple, he thought, to just pop over there in place of the other Henry. Obviously, it would be wiser for him to remain sheltered in at Abe's until his expected departure next Wednesday; but the thought of a new mystery, a new puzzle to solve, was tantalizing.

"Perhaps I might be of some assistance," he proposed before quickly rising and gathering up his coat and scarf.

"Oh, no, no, no, don't you dare!" Abe warned him, pointing a finger and scurrying behind him. "I know that look. Dad gets that same look whenever he gets the chance to hunt down a killer."

"Not hunting, Abraham," Henry rasped as he donned his coat and scarf. "Simply endeavoring to bring closure to those the victim has left behind and bring a criminal to justice. Just thought that if I can be of any help then I must try," he explained.

Abe studied him, frowning, then reached into his pocket and handed him a key. "Well, you're gonna need this to let yourself back in," he reluctantly conceded. "You're as stubborn as he is, aren't you?"

Henry took the key and dropped it into his coat pocket, stiffening a bit before replying, "I rather prefer determined." He smiled and headed down the stairs and out of the shop.

"Yeah, well, remember to stay determined not to get into any trouble!" Abe called after him. Meaning don't get yourself killed out there and especially not in front of anyone. Especially not in front of Jo.

vvvv

Henry's cab brought him to the Heritage Arms a little more than 20 minutes after the other Jo had called. The money was the same here as in his own dimension and he was thankful for that. Paying his fare was one thing, though. Getting past the unis and the yellow crime scene tape was another. Just as he was pondering how to get past them, he saw the morgue van arrive and Lucas hop out of it. Henry advanced quickly toward Lucas, ignoring the startled look on the young man's face.

" **What** are you **doing** here?" Lucas whispered, bending down slightly, his eyes darting around at the others.

"Trying to help," Henry whispered back out of the side of his mouth as they walked inside the building, avoiding eye contact with the unis who, at the sight of him, had slight frowns of both recognition and confusion. "You said, yourself, that my ID is identical to the type issued by the OCME here."

"Yeah, but - " Lucas started before he cut him off.

"No one should question my right to be here, then."

They soon found themselves in the apartment where the body of an elderly woman was in a sitting position on the sofa still holding her unfinished needlepoint in her lap. She wore an old, blue floral dress that went just below her knees; the hair on her head, a web of silver yarn. Her facial lines and wrinkles made her look ... sweet. As they moved closer, they became aware of the faint scent of lavender which Henry associated with a perfume called Primrose.

"Looks like she simply died in her sleep," Lucas speculated as they stood in front of her.

Leaning closer to her, Henry took in a deep whiff while waving a hand toward his face. Besides the perfume, another sweet, flowery smell lingered about her. The tea set in front of her on the coffee table garnered his attention.

"Lucas. Look at this," he said, flicking his head down toward the stylish, white, Royal Albert tea set of bone china with a delicate red rose on either side, including the lid, cup, and saucer.

"She was poisoned?" Lucas asked.

"No," Henry replied. "You were correct in your first assumption: she slept away. Pointing to the full cup of tea, he said, "The killer intended for her demise to come about after she'd consumed this tea. But it appears she never had the chance."

"Well, well, well. Sherlock Holmes' icky brother, himself." The other Mike's disparaging voice came from his right as he sauntered in.

Henry swallowed before replying, not having given enough thought to an encounter with Mike's doppelganger. Training his eyes on the woman's corpse in an effort to concentrate, he continued.

"The teacup contains the strong scent of honey and oleander, a common flowering shrub. But all parts are deadly: the nectar, smoke from the burning plants, the twigs. Why, even the honey made from bees that have fed on rhododendrons, azaleas, and oleanders is poisonous." He swallowed again, aware that the other Mike was nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with him on his right, frowning at him with a penetrating gaze.

"The teapot, however, contains only the scent of the tea." He bent down, raised the lid of the pot and hand-waved another deep whiff into his nose. Placing the lid back on, he straightened up. "A loose-leaf, English breakfast blend. One of my favorites, actually," he added with a slight smile but still avoiding eye contact with the detective.

"Jo told me about you," the dark-haired detective said. "Said you're a doctor? I musta missed the part about you being an ME, too."

"He's not icky like Henry," the other Jo replied as she came to stand near them. Her gaze dropped from his face down to his ID. "But I'm missing something, too. Since when do you work for the OCME?"

"Oh, he's sort of just ... an ... interested observer," the other Lucas replied for him.

"Oh, yeah? Sure you're not from IA?" the other Mike asked, warily.

"Absolutely not," Henry quickly assured him, feeling insulted.

"Well ... okay. What killed the old lady here?" the other Jo asked.

"It would appear that she simply took a nap and ... never woke up," Henry replied.

"Interesting," the other Jo said. "Because two of her neighbors, Paula Frierson and Nathan Bishop, are accusing each other of having poisoned her." She held up a plastic bag with a small, dark brown, medicinal bottle with an eye dropper cap inside, pressing her lips together with raised eyebrows. "You're sure she wasn't?"

"Fairly positive," Henry replied, taking the bagged item from her and examining it. Handing it back to her, he speculated that it would have been easy for the killer to pour a small amount into the cup without the victim knowing it.

"However, if she had consumed it, she would have immediately begun reacting to it. Just like digitalis, the poison is a cardiac stimulator and causes sweating, vomiting, bloody diarrhea, unconsciousness, respiratory paralysis, and finally death. None of those symptoms are present."

Placing his gloved hands on both sides of the teapot and then on the cup, he straightened back up and told them, "This pot was brewed less than two hours ago. Enough time for some of those symptoms to have presented themselves." He bent down and looked closer at the needlepoint she'd been working on. The two detectives exchanged cynical looks while the young Assistant ME watched this other Henry in familiar, rapt anticipation of him sharing his next observation. Just like his own boss would.

"Lovely and quite intricate," he murmured, twisting his head to the left, then right, admiring it. "A Good Neighbor Memory pattern. Notice the newest, completed section indicating that she'd worked on it, I'd say, for at least half an hour before passing. The last few stitches haphazardly executed," he pointed out.

"They look alike, they walk alike, at times, they even talk alike," the other Mike playfully observed as he quoted a line from the opening theme song of the old "Patty Duke Show" in which she had a visiting, lookalike cousin. "Is, uh, butthead also a needlepoint expert?" he asked. He chuckled, shaking his head. "You guys seem to know a lot about the oddest things."

"I assume you are referring to my cousin," Henry told him, bristling at the unkind remark much to his own surprise. "One can only benefit from continued education, Detective. Broadens one's knowledge on a variety of subjects."

Turning away from a Mike with ruffled feathers and back to the victim, he announced, "She did not brew the tea with the poison in it. She would have succumbed even from the smell of it. Neither did she commit suicide by adding it into her cup. Someone else dropped it in (pointing at the plastic evidence bag) and left, thinking the natural course of events would unfold. Who discovered the body?" he asked, rolling his tongue around in his mouth.

"Lady Barnacle," the other Jo replied, breaking out into a grin at their surprised reactions. "Not a human," she told them. "Lady Barnacle is a cute little dog. Her owner, Maeve Thomas, is a tenant down the hall. Said she was on her way out to take the dog for a walk but it got away from her and ran straight to our vic's door ... "

vvvv

"The door must not have been closed all the way," Maeve Thomas told the crime-solving foursome in a refined, Boston accent as her wrinkled hands cuddled her diminutive pet, a brown-and-white Basenji. "The door edged open, Lady B - Oh, that's what I call her," she giggled. "My late husband named her." Maeve shook her head full of silver hair, frowning. "Barnacle simply should not be paired with Lady for a proper name. She responds so much better to Lady B." She hugged and cuddled the dog, grinning and cooing.

"Um ... Mrs. Thomas - " the other Jo said, gently interrupting her.

"Oh! Oh, yes. Sorry. Now, where was I?" she asked, tapping a finger against her lips.

"The victim's apartment door edged open and Lady B - " the other Jo prompted her further.

"Oh. Yes. Lady B scooted inside and I scooted in after her with all apologies ready to offer my friend, Alouetta, but instead ... " she paused, her voice cracking. "There she was," she managed, sniffling. "I could tell that she was gone. In her sleep. So peaceful," she added just above a whisper. Then, realizing that further explanation might be needed, she looked up at all of them and added, "I'm a retired nurse - 43 years at Boston General - and I recognize when death has made its claim on a body."

When questioned about the young couple, Paula and Nathan, her amiable features turned dark. "Oh, those two," her voice now gruff. Leaning forward, she told them of how Alouetta had confided in her that she'd grown tired of the young couple's empty promises to repay several small loans she'd made to them.

"Why, just last week, Alouetta told me that she was thinking of taking legal action against them to recover what they owed her."

"How much money are we talking here?" the other Mike asked.

"Altogether? Somewhere in the neighborhood of $6,500," Maeve replied. "The last loan three months ago was $1,500 dollars. Alouetta said that they always promised to repay her but then grew angry when she threatened to take them to court."

The foursome shared a knowing look, thanked her, and left. Henry was almost certain that an autopsy would prove that Alouetta died of natural causes but the couple might still face attempted murder charges, along with conspiracy to commit murder, and bilking money from an elderly person.

vvvv

"Solved your first case," Abe announced in a congratulatory tone to Henry, raising a glass of wine to him. "On behalf of me and my humble dimension, we thank you," he jokingly added.

"Something that I miss being involved with," Henry admitted, smiling. "This case was pretty straightforward, though. A case of an elderly person having her funds siphoned off by schemers."

"Any idea which one tried to poison her?"

"Both of them," Henry replied. At Abe's frown of confusion, he explained further. "It's a simple case of them accusing each other, making it difficult, if not impossible, for the prosecution to prove that either of them did it alone. I recall a similar case of siblings who'd succeeded in murdering their parents. The Muir case. Both of them are laying the blame on the other."

"Hmmm. Sounds like you gotta trick them into thinking that the other has agreed to a plea deal. Ratted the other out," Abe said.

"They were going to try that just before ... " Henry's voice trailed off.

"Before you got sucked into this dimension," Abe finished for him. "Did you meet Sgt. Reece?"

"Yes," he replied. He had met the formidable woman. As formidable as his own Lt. Reece.

 _"Welcome to the 11th, Dr. Morgan. I understand that you've been helping my detectives put a case away today. Thank you," Sgt. Reece had greeted him, surprising him. "I know all the goings on in my precinct ... and the OCME. You, sir, seem to have popped up out of nowhere to be able to wear that ID. But ... we won't discuss that. That is, unless you suddenly 'pop' up again. Understood?"_

"She, ah, invited me to observe while the couple was being questioned but I felt they had enough information to proceed on their own so I bailed, as Lucas would say," he said, grinning.

A cross between a grunt and a harrumph left Abe's lips. "It's a wonder you ever escaped intact," he told Henry. "How'd you manage to get away without being arrested for tampering with a crime scene?"

"I didn't tamper with it," Henry explained defensively. "Merely shared my observations and expertise with them and the Sergeant thanked me if you'll recall."

"Yeah, yeah, but don't do that again, please," Abe begged. "I was worried the whole time you were gone." He took a sip from his glass, casting an even more serious look at his houseguest. "Did Jo ask you again about Dad?"

"Fortunately, no," Henry replied. "Although I think she wanted to." He blew out a breath through his puffed cheeks. "Lying to her. Lying to my Jo. Lies, all the time lies in order to hide my condition! His, too, I suppose. It's beginning to wear at me," he confessed.

"Jo doesn't know about his condition," Abe reminded him. "When I realized that they were seeing each other, I tried to convince him to come clean with her. When we found out that she was expecting, I urged him again."

"What happened?" Henry asked, although he could tell by the look on Abe's face, it wasn't good.

Abe scoffed. "Told me to mind my own business, and that if I told her - which I threatened to - he would leave. That she'd raise the baby without him."

"So he does acknowledge that the child is his?" Henry asked.

"Oh, yeah, he knows it's his. He's just being an ass." Abe shook his head. "Telling her that crap about maybe it wasn't." He shook his head again. "Feel like strangling him sometimes. That's my little brother or sister and he won't even tell her the truth about himself!"

"How did she look today?" Abe asked after calming himself down. "She looked so tired and pale last time she was here."

"The same," Henry replied. "Worries me that she's not getting her proper rest or nutrition." He cautiously asked, "Does he ... has he ever looked in on her?"

"Beats me," Abe replied, frustrated. "I used to but ... kind of awkward for me to call her or go over to her house, ya know? She doesn't know my true connection to her and the baby. She thinks I'm acting out of pity and that is a definite no-no where Jo is concerned."

"Strong, proud woman who prefers to stand on her own two feet," Henry assessed. Sounds a lot like his Jo. His Jo? Ohhh, if only he could get back home. He'd do all he could to find out if she would be. His Jo. Abe's voice cut into his thoughts.

"I'd like to hear more about your romp through Sherlock Land but," he told him, rising from his chair with a groan, "time to call it a night."

"Um, Abraham," Henry began. "Does your father really sleep in the basement laboratory?" He hadn't seen a bed or a comfortable place to rest in there.

Abe paused, considering his words. "You take the guest room. End of the hall."

Henry thanked him with a sigh of relief and they both retired for the evening.

vvvv

The next morning, the shop received another visit from the other Jo, much to both men's surprise and chagrin. Not that they didn't like her, quite the opposite. But the less Henry interacted with anyone other than his son's counterpart, the better.

"Jo, uh, nice to see you," Abe greeted her, struggling to hide how uncomfortable he was with her being there. "Uh, Henry, uh, called and said he'd be back in a couple of days." In fact, Wednesday was only a couple of days away, so he wasn't exactly lying.

She eyed Henry suspiciously as the three of them stood in the shop's retail portion. "Where did you send him? Is he even in the country anymore?"

"He ... well ... he is quite a distance away," Henry replied. Then, noticing her more healthy-looking appearance, he said, "You look more rested than the last time we saw each other."

She laughed softly and replied, "Thanks, I guess. Still think I look kinda wrung out but I did manage to get a little more sleep last night. Your contributions in the Periwinkle case helped put those two away for a long time."

"Good. Good. Glad to have helped," Henry replied. He eyed the other Abe uncertainly and told her, "As soon as Cousin Henry returns, I, uh, we will be sure to let you know."

"If you're trying to give me the bum's rush, don't bother," she dryly replied. "I came over here to see you, not him; to thank you for your help. But since you two seem to want me gone - "

They both began to protest when she turned to walk out of the shop.

"It's okay, guys. I'm sure you have an exciting cricket match to watch or something," she chortled. "And, um, yesterday's case will be my last for a while. My doctor's taking me off work early. Would have been next week but ... " she looked down at her baby bump and placed her hand on top of it. "Junior's a bit anxious to get out if you know what I mean."

"So, you already know the gender?" Henry asked, smiling. Jo nodded, smiling back.

Abe had moved past them to greet a man who'd just entered the shop but something didn't sit quite right with Henry. The man who'd entered the shop simply didn't look like the usual antique-loving customer. In fact, he didn't seem to really be focused on any of the items. Instead, he stood on the inside of the door and peered out into the street.

"May I help you?" the elderly proprietor asked.

"Nah," he quickly replied. "Just looking." But he continued to strain his neck looking out into the street to his right and then the left.

"Well, if you're not looking at the merchandise, I'll have to ask you to leave," Abe told him.

"Just back off, will ya?" the man warned him, glaring at him over his shoulder. "I'm not bothering any of your junk!"

"Junk?!" an annoyed Abe exclaimed. "Okay, that's it. Get outta here!" he demanded, waving a dismissive hand at him. Greatly concerned, Henry had edged past the detective and now stood beside Abe. However, Jo was a peace officer and felt it was her duty to still protect and serve her two companions. Her cop's instincts told her that this guy was bad news. She undid the strap on her holster and gripped the gun, her badge prominently displayed as it hung from its lanyard.

The man turned around to face Abe and found that Henry had joined him. "Who are you?" he scoffed. "The bouncer?"

"No," Henry flatly replied. "But I would advise you to do as my friend requests. You're two seconds past trespassing," he told him, matter-of-factly.

"Oh, am I?" the man chuckled. "You gonna call the cops on me?"

"He doesn't have to, genius," Jo told him, catching his attention as he peered over Henry's shoulder at her. "Det. Jo Martinez NYPD. Either you leave or get hauled in for disturbing the peace, among other things. I'm sure we can find a few more charges to pile on once we run you through our database for priors."

The man's previously unpleasant behavior seemed to melt away. "Look, Officer - "

"Detective," she corrected him. Her eyes bored into his.

"Detective. Look, there are ... people out there tryin' to ... tryin' to kill me," he told her, lowering his voice. "You send me out there, you sign my death warrant."

"Why do these ... people want to kill you?" Henry asked, still annoyed with the man but curiosity aroused. At the same time, he was doing his best to edge more in front in order to protect his two companions all the while realizing that Jo was just as determined to protect the two of them.

"Because I may have kinda sorta borrowed some ... cannabis from them," the slender, 20-something, dark-haired man haltingly admitted.

"You mean you stole it!" Henry barked at him.

"And you led them here?!" Abe asked, incredulous and angered.

From outside the shop, they heard a voice yell out, "There he is!" and pounding footsteps that came closer. "Tony, you bastard!" another voice rang out.

The man now had a name: Tony. He pushed his way past Henry and Jo, knocking them aside and sending himself sprawling. He jumped to his feet and ran to the back of the shop and bolted out of the door that led to the alley. Two figures in dark blue hoodies now stood in front of the shop. Abe had managed to lock the door when they'd first heard the yelling. The two outside continued to yell as they pounded on the glass door. Henry regained his footing and helped upright Jo. She brought her gun up and aimed it at the two outside and yelled for them to stop, which they promptly did. They backed away from the door with their hands up, then charged off to their left, away from the shop.

"I'm fine, guys, I'm fine," she assured the two concerned men. "Better lock that back door so he can't get back inside," she advised them and holstered her weapon.

"He'd be stupid to come back here," Abe declared. "Are you gonna report these guys? Because I sure want to."

"Suppose I should," she said with a sigh and reached for her cell phone. "There was a time when I would have pursued them. Can't do that now," she muttered. Her head snatched up and she spoke into the phone, identifying herself and reporting the disturbance at the shop.

Just then Tony reappeared at the shop's door, yanking on the knob and then pounding on the door. "Let me in!" he pleaded, his eyes wide with fear. He looked to his left then slowly backed away to his right. Jo attempted to move toward the door but Henry instinctively stepped in front of her. Everything happened in slow motion after that, although only in the space of seconds.

The dispute between Tony and the other two men escalated into an altercation during which one of them produced a gun and fired it at Tony, who managed to duck out of the way at the last minute. The two men and Tony ran off in opposite directions just as the distant wail of a police car siren was heard. The damage had been done, though. The bullet had passed through the large display window, shattering it. Along with Abe, Henry had managed to pull Jo further away from the front of the store with Henry positioning himself as their human shield. Abe didn't protest but was upset, nonetheless, because he knew what Henry was doing. Jo was upset because they were keeping her from doing her job and Henry was way too much in harm's way. And the bullet had found a target.

"You're ... Henry ... you're shot," Jo said, her voice just above a whisper. Her horror-filled eyes growing wider along with the widening blood stain on his chest.

He dropped to the floor like a rag doll, choking on the blood filling up in his throat. Abe and Jo knelt beside him. While Jo assured him that help would be there any second, he slowly slid his eyes away from her and over to Abe.

"East ... River," he managed to choke out before exhaling his last breath and vanishing before their eyes in a blinding flash of white light. Abe marveled at how stunningly different it was from the brilliantly white, twinkling stars seen after his father's deaths. He had seen him die more than once but Jo. Oh, God. Jo had seen this man die and he was afraid of what was going through her mind right now and how it might affect her and her unborn child.

"Jo, uh, I gotta go," Abe told her. She was shaking and blinking her wide eyes, looking around at the floor, around the shop, then back at him.

"Where ... where did he go? What just happened here, Abe?" she breathlessly implored.

"I can't explain right now," he told her. Then his heart jumped into his throat when she let out a small cry and clutched her round belly. Another cry and she doubled over. He eased her back into an armchair and knelt in front of her, asking if she was all right and realizing with great regret that Henry would most likely be getting arrested soon for emerging from the East River nude. He cursed that fact to himself, cursed Tony and his hooligan friends but also knew that he couldn't leave Jo. Then a thought crossed his mind as he lurched over to the landline phone and dialed a number. The arrival of a police unit was a welcome sight but there would be paperwork and questions. Questions he wasn't willing to answer.

vvvv

"Abe told me what happened," Lucas said as he sat behind the wheel of his car and Henry quickly dried off in the back seat. "It's all ... hard to believe," he added.

Henry pulled on the too-long scrubs rolling both the arms and legs up to accommodate his shorter-than-Lucas frame. "You're right," he replied, leaving the back seat for the front and closing the door. "I find it hard to believe myself, at times."

Lucas started up the car and asked, "Where to?"

The shop was ruled out because of the police presence most likely still there.

"Maybe you crash at my crib for a minute?"

"I suppose so," Henry replied. "But I'm concerned for Abe and Jo. I need to know that they're all right."

"Well, according to Abe, they're fine. But ... because of that dying and vanishing act of yours," Lucas began, "she's now in labor."

Information on poisonous, flowering shrubs found at

Description of a sweet, little old lady, courtesy of 'Saptaparna SAMAJDAR, A Thinker. A writer' How-can-I-describe-an-extremely-old-woman-Ive-met-in-words#

Information on old-style tea sets found at shop/by-type/teapots-tea-sets?gclid=EAIaIQobChMI3OioivjW3gIVnSCtBh0xyAhoEAAYASAAEgLK7_D_BwE

Information on tea brands found at .

Information on small dog breeds found at . /blog/small-dog-breeds/#Basenji


	8. Henry Morgan's Dark Side Ch 8

Living Room of the safe house in Dimension One ...

The other Immortal ME studied the three crime scene photos that Jo had brought him. A young couple lying dead in their own excrement, apparent poisoning victims. But was it a murder-suicide? A murder pact? An accident? He recalled how in London in 1859, he'd unknowingly consumed a Greek pastry called Loukoumades, garnished with honey made from bees that had fed on oleanders, a common but deadly flowery shrub. It was his first and last time consuming that particular small treat. The result was that he'd suffered greatly, alone in his small boarding room before succumbing. Fortunately, all of the bodily excrement that had soiled his bed and the floors, vanished completely along with his body when he'd died. He'd diagnosed his symptoms as they'd painfully presented themselves until all coherent thought had left him. After reawakening in the Thames and 'borrowing' some freshly-washed clothes from a line strung outside a nearby nestle of five cottages, he'd made his soggy way back to his room.

Leaning back and sighing, he realized that the stomach contents and toxicology reports would have to be analyzed in order to confirm his suspicions about the type of poison. How it got into their systems would take a little more effort to uncover.

"This isn't enough, Martinez," he told her. "More is needed than these photos and one witness statement."

"Tell me what you see," she coaxed him, anyway.

He shared with her the type of poisoning that may have been used and that an autopsy would have to be done in order to confirm or dispel his suspicions. "Who's doing the autopsy?" he asked. When she replied that Washington was, he shook his head vigorously. "No. No. If he's anything like the man that we've all suffered with for years, you simply have to get someone else."

"I don't have the authority to do that," she adamantly replied. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out something. "Um, Abe told me to give you this," she said, holding out a gold pocket watch to him. "You must have dropped it the other night when ... when you were there."

Abandoning everything else, he opened it and smiled, then gently closed it. He stared almost reverently at the antique timepiece as he cradled it in one hand and stroked it with the fingers of his other. "I feared it was lost during my vanishing," he whispered. "Passed down from my father; his father before him; his father before him. Thank you," he told her with heartfelt sincerity.

"Abe said he knew it was yours because Henry's has Roman Numerals on the watch face but yours has ornate numbers," she told him as he situated it properly onto his person.

"Hmmm. Interesting," he mused. "Another subtle difference."

"Yes," she replied. "Since the toxicology reports would take weeks to come back, Lucas will check out their stomach contents for the odor of either honey or oleander. He's taking off early this afternoon to meet with you at his apartment."

"Great! I'll finally be allowed to leave this ... " he paused just in time not to say 'hovel'. "This quaint abode if only for a few hours," he responded, grinning.

"Umm ... yeah," she replied, biting her lower lip. Bringing Lucas in and not her official partner, Mike, troubled her. Her loyalties were split between being truthful with him, who was also a trusted and valued friend and guarding Henry's secret. And if he knew that Lucas was being taken into their confidence instead of him, she shuddered to think how he might react. What she didn't know was that Mike was the least of her worries.

vvvv

The 11th Precinct ...

"Detective, would you mind telling me why a payment voucher to cover expenses incurred by a John Doe at one of our safe houses just crossed my desk?" The usually unflappable Joanna Reece was anything but that as she grilled Mike Hanson. "It says that Det. Martinez took him there two days ago." She looked at Jo's empty desk and asked, "And where is she now?"

"Lieu, I, uh ... " Mike didn't know what to tell her without blowing Jo's cover concerning the mystery man in the no-tell hotel. Taking note of his distressful look, she ushered him into her office.

"Now. I can see that you're upset that I found out about this - "

"Lieu - "

" - and I understand how partners share secrets. For that reason, I'm not going to make you betray her confidence. As long as she's not breaking the law."

Mike appeared to relax when she told him that. However, he tensed again at her next words.

"But I need you to let her know that if this John Doe is not connected to a case in order to justify these expenditures, he must be taken out of there. Immediately."

Mike whipped out his cell phone and called Jo. After a brief conversation, he ended the call and told her, "Problem solved. They left not five minutes ago." He managed a grin, relieved at the news and left her office with instructions to make sure Jo knew not to take him back unless he was properly associated with a case.

vvvv

Lucas having confirmed via phone that the couple's stomach contents smelled like a "sugary flower", Jo drove the other Henry over to meet with him at his apartment.

"You might not be around long enough to see this case through to the end, but I believe your observations have helped put us on the right track," Jo told him as they waited in her parked car outside Lucas' address. "There he is," she said and they both got out of the car to join Lucas as he strode up to his building's entrance. Jo inwardly cringed at the sight of a jaw-dropped Lucas as they drew closer to each other, mentally willing him to keep his cool. They exchanged greetings but Lucas leveled a pop-eyed stare at her companion.

"Whoa, you, you really do look a lot like the Big Guy," Lucas said, extending his hand.

"Can we ... ?" Jo asked, tipping her head toward the building.

"Oh, oh, yeah, sorry. C'mon in."

Once inside, the other Henry filled Lucas in on his trip from another dimension. That is after he got over the initial shock of the young man's relatively poor existence compared to the rich Lucas he knew.

"So, you're not rich and I suppose you're not gay, either," the other ME stated more than asked.

"Uh, no," Lucas replied, almost dropping his armful of graphic novels. "Are, are you? Rich, uh, gay, uh ... ?"

"Neither. Just ... curious," he replied. Just making sure that he didn't have to duck a kiss from this one, as well. He determined it wasn't the look of love in Lucas' eyes but a hopeless case of hero worship. Just as bad, he concluded, possibly even worse. Their missing man, Henry, certainly seemed to have a full plate of his own to deal with in the way that he chose to hide his feelings for this female detective along with his secret from all of them. Behavior not entirely foreign to him. Jo's voice pierced his thoughts.

"Can we just get to figuring out how to make this switch?" she suggested, rolling her eyes and smiling.

They began gleaning information from the young ME's graphic novels that might be helpful to them when Jo's cell phone buzzed. It was a text message from Mike relaying Lieu's orders about the John Doe in the safe house. After texting her response, she closed her phone and shared the information with them that a return to the safe house was out. The other Henry graciously accepted Lucas' warm invitation to remain at his place for now.

The matter of temporary living arrangements settled, they resumed perusing through the slim publications. Two hours later, they'd pulled as much information as they could from them and hammered out a plan to aid the other ME in switching places with their Henry similar to the plan that Lucas in Dimension Two had.

{From Chapter 5 in Dimension Two: Based on scheduling information [Lucas] received from a friend who worked for the city's subway system, Henry had boarded car #1814 that day he and the other Henry had switched dimensions. So, Lucas suggested that Henry should board car #1814 again at the same time as before.}

"So, here's the plan," Lucas began. "You board car #1779 again on Wednesday evening on the same platform at the same time as before."

{Unbeknownst to any of them, their Henry had boarded a car with the number of the same year as their first deaths, 1814. This other Henry had boarded a car with the number of the same year of their births, 1779. The universe had hiccupped, for want of a better word, causing a portal to open and swallow them into each other's dimensions.}

The other ME re-read the title on the cover of the graphic novel he held in his hand, Remarkable Journey. "One can only hope that a similar plan is being concocted at the other end of this ... journey of mine," he said with both hope and worry in his voice. The need to return to the life and people he knew, especially Abe, Jo, and his unborn child, had increased to a level of desperation. There was so much that he now regretted and he so very much longed to make amends.

"Perhaps it's fate that has brought me here," he quietly confided in them, surprising himself. Maybe it was easier to open himself up to them because they weren't the actual people he knew and he would be leaving soon.

"The fact that your friend and I have been given the opportunity to walk in each other's shoes and examine each other's lives has impacted our own; something extraordinarily rare. It has forced me and, I'm sure, him to do some deep soul-searching about ourselves and especially about our ... gift of Immortality. I know what I intend to do after my return," he said, resolutely. He looked at Lucas, then at Jo before continuing. "Hopefully, he has learned, as I have, to treasure the people around him and the moments spent with them." Shame prevented him from sharing with them that as soon as he returned home, he planned to get down on both knees and beg Jo to forgive him. And his son. And ... God, everyone! Or ... as many as he could. But especially Jo and Abe.

The three sat in silence for a few moments, mulling over his thought-provoking admission before he perked up. Inhaling deeply and exhaling loudly while slapping his hands down on his knees, he said with a loud, confident voice, "Well, then. Hopefully, I haven't succeeded in reducing all of us to a bucket of tears." They all happily released their laughter.

"Right now I could consume a dozen raspberry scones," he sighed out.

"Henry loves blueberry scones," Jo told him.

"Lucky bloke. I'm allergic to blueberries," he lamented amid the laughter of his companions.

vvvv

Earlier at Abe's Antiques ...

Abe watched Jo leave, still unsettled over the recent events involving this other man from another dimension. He refused to refer to him with the same name as his father. Dad owned that name, not this, this changeling. As he climbed the stairs to the living quarters and went into his bedroom, the events of that night he'd accidentally shot and killed Dad's lookalike played over in his mind. It had rendered him unable to sleep in there since then. Feeling a bit braver, though, and since the bed in the guest room was not as comfortable as his own, he decided it was time to once again take over his bedroom. Luckily, any bloodstains resulting from the other man's wound had instantly vanished when his body had. After a few minutes, he walked back into the kitchen to prepare his evening meal and let it simmer in the oven until it was time to consume it.

"I certainly hope Lucas can figure out something to help get you back here, Pops," he whispered out loud to himself. Never seeing his father again made him too sad so he pushed it out of his thoughts. For if nothing could be done, would this other guy take his place? Even though Jo had explained that his mean guy act was just that, an act, it made no difference to him. He just wanted his Pops back.

 _"He's not really the scum bag you think he is, Abe," Jo had tried to convince him. "Maybe if you just sit down and talk with him - "_

 _" - No! No. Just ... give him his darn watch and ... find a way to get him gone," he'd told her. "Get my Pops back."_

vvvv vvvv

A hospital waiting room in Dimension Two ...

The other Det. Mike Hanson, the other Lucas, and Henry had paced dueling pathways alternately bumping into or side-stepping each other until it had become clear that the three of them could not successfully navigate the same small area of floor space together. The detective directed the other two men to share the adjoining hallway and he resumed his worried pacing in the small sitting area. All three of them startled when Jo was wheeled out into the waiting area by an attendant.

"False alarm," she told them as they swarmed around her. "Easy guys, I'm ... we're fine. I was just overreacting to what happened at the shop." Her eyes cut to Henry and lingered there for a couple of heartbeats. Abe had promised to explain everything to her later about the ME's dying and vanishing in front of their very eyes leaving her astounded and speechless. He obviously knew something about this man who looked and sounded so much like the Henry she knew. Who was he really? And where was Henry? However, she decided to table her questions rather than absorb any answers that might upset her again. Satisfying her curiosity was not important enough to endanger the wellbeing of her unborn child.

"Dr. McFarland has me on complete bed rest for the rest of the week." She smiled in spite of things as the three men argued over how she would get home and who would escort her, making her feel much like the belle of the ball. A hugely pregnant belle of the ball.

"Guys, guys, my mother is picking me up. I'll be at her house until my delivery time." Taking in their expressions of sincere concern, ironically caused an ache in her heart because her Henry had not exhibited the same level of concern for either her or their child. She managed to put up a brave face, though, and bid them goodbye as her mother drove her away.

As they watched the car drive away, the other Mike turned to Henry. "You know, Jo is like a little sister to me. I do my best to look out for her. We've known each other for eight years, partnered for the past four. She's a good woman who doesn't deserve a sorry bag o' skin like your cousin. Wherever he is, you tell him for me that the next time I see him, I'm gonna beat him to a pulp. Capiche?"

Henry pressed his lips together uncertain of how to respond. It both worried and dismayed him to see the level of anger his counterpart had evoked in the man. "You would risk losing your job over a 'sorry bag o' skin' such as my cousin?" he asked, attempting to reason with him.

"Oh, don't worry," the other Mike replied, smirking. "There are different levels of police brutality both on and off the job, and I didn't earn this gold shield for being a dummy. It'll get done. And I'll keep my job. Trust me," he said and left in his assigned vehicle.

"He means it," Lucas said.

"I know," Henry replied.

vvvv

Still in Dimension Two ...

A smile crossed Henry's face as he entered the shop and saw the other Abe at the end of the sales floor behind the counter. So much like his own son. He stopped midway and looked around for the first time noticing familiar items, items that had been sold away in their own shop and other items that he felt were different antiques from the other Henry's past.

"Hey, how's Jo?" Abe asked.

"According to her and her doctor, both she and the baby are fine," Henry replied as he drew closer.

"Oh. Here," Abe said, holding out something to him. "You dropped it when you, uh ... you know."

Henry took the gold pocket watch from him, nostalgia building in him, and rubbed his thumb over it. He opened it briefly and closed it, blinking back tears. "This was gifted to me on my father's deathbed. I was the fourth generation of Morgan men to own it."

"Hmmm. Same with my Dad," the antiquarian replied. "Only his has regular numbers and yours has Roman numerals."

"Interesting," Henry replied, smiling. He attached the chain back to his vest and pocketed the watch.

As the day wore on, Henry learned from his companion what had happened after his body had vanished. Despite Lucas having advised him not to return to the shop because of the police presence, he had. Fortunately, Abe had reported that he'd run off in pursuit of Tony and Jo had agreed to put it in her report, adding credibility to why he wasn't at the shop when the police had arrived. As a testament to her amazing durability and stamina, she had remained surprisingly calm in spite of her nerves having been rattled when he'd died and vanished, causing her to experience false labor pains.

Later on that evening after dinner, they enjoyed a glass of wine near the fireside and reflected on their time together and that tomorrow would be the last time they would ever see each other. If everything went according to plan, that is.


	9. Henry Morgan's Dark Side Ch 9

Dimension Two ...

 _Abraham had promised to explain everything to the other Jo about Henry's dying and vanishing in front of her, sending her into false labor. Who really was this man who looked and sounded so much like the Henry she knew? And where_ _ **was**_ _the Henry she knew? But she realized that satisfying her curiosity might endanger the wellbeing of her unborn child._

vvvv

She couldn't put her finger on it, exactly, but something was up with Abraham and his mysterious houseguest. Okay, besides his apparent ability to cheat death. Call it a cop's instinct now enforced with not only a woman's but a mother's instinct, as well. Her stringent vow the day before not to risk taking in any more information that might jeopardize the health of her unborn son was all but gone as soon as she'd awakened that morning. Thankfully, Mama had left both breakfast for her and a note that she'd gone off to do more marketing to replenish their pantry. This gave her the perfect opportunity to slip out of the house and get back over to the shop for some answers.

"Jo! You shouldn't be out and about!" Abraham exclaimed as he met her at the shop's door, taking control of her wheelchair and steering her inside. He released the handles when she told him that it was motorized and she could handle it herself.

"Where is he?" she asked. They were at the retail counter at the back of the shop. She looked at Abraham then at the staircase. "I need to speak with him."

"Uh ... speak with ... uh, Henry's still not here, Jo," he stammered out.

"His _cousin_ ," she emphasized. "I need to speak with him now."

"W-why do you want to speak with _him_?" he asked. He walked around to the other side of the retail counter and placed his hands on the top of it, facing her. "I don't think you should do that, Jo. Think of your baby."

"I'm pregnant, not helpless or dumb!" she told him, raising her voice. "Now, do I file a missing person's report on Henry or do I get to speak with that cousin?"

"No need for that," a voice replied from the staircase. They quickly turned their heads in the direction of the voice and watched Henry descend the stairs and walk up to join them near the retail counter. Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he said, "She's right, Abraham. Withholding the truth from her may be more detrimental to her health and that of the baby."

A sigh of exasperation left the old man. "But what if something happens, I mean ... "

"I'm a doctor, Abraham," Henry quietly reminded him, his gaze never leaving hers. "Something tells me, though, that my services will not be needed."

"Oy, vey," Abraham grumbled, lifting one hand off of the counter to cover his eyes. He lowered his hand and followed them into the small room behind the counter. "Your mother's gonna kill us if anything happens to you," he bemoaned.

"Well, we all know who'd survive that, don't we?" Jo asked rhetorically as she steered her wheelchair into the room.

Two hours later ...

Henry and Abraham sat in uncomfortable silence as they watched her digest what they'd told her about him being from another dimension. The clock on the mantel chimed the hour for the second time as they'd sat there. After two hours of confessions, explanations, and surprisingly few questions, they looked uncertainly at each other, feeling they may have made a mistake in disclosing the supernatural news to her.

"It makes sense now," Jo finally said quietly and frowning, her eyes moving from side to side. She looked up at the two of them and repeated, " _He_ makes sense now."

"You ... you already knew?" Abraham asked, incredulous.

"Well, not that you were his son," she admitted, laughing softly. "I actually had it the other way around thinking that you guys were living some kind of Tuck Everlasting kind of existence. But ... the more he hid from me about himself, the more I resolved to find out things on my own." She went on to tell them of how her suspicions about him had grown after one puzzling incident after the other. "Amazing," she said more to herself. "Simply amazing." She placed her hands on her round belly and looked down at it.

"Are you feeling all right, Jo?" Henry asked, beginning to rise from his seat.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she replied, waving for him to sit back down. "We're fine." She bit her lower lip and said, "Just wondering if ... if immortality is hereditary."

Henry's shoulders drooped and he sat back in his armchair. "Even though I have raised a son, to the best of my knowledge, I have never been able to procreate; so I wouldn't know." Was Immortality hereditary? He wanted to say that he hoped not but opted instead to tell her that it remained to be seen.

She nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face, then asked, "So, what is this plan Lucas cooked up to get you and Henry switched back?"

Before they could respond, they heard banging on the shop's front door and a loud voice demanding that they "Open up!"

"Just got that glass repaired!" Abraham wailed.

"Sounds like Mike," Jo said as they all peered across the shop's floor to the front door. "It is Mike." Her eyes widened in surprise. "And Sgt. Reece!" What were they doing here? they all wondered.

Abraham quickly went to let them in and led them back to the small room. Mike and Sgt. Reece quickly explained that they had received a frantic phone call from Jo's mother. They both had been so concerned for her that Reece had decided to accompany Mike after he'd tracked Jo's movements to the shop. Accusations, questions, and explanations were traded between them including the truth about the two Henry's conditions, their switched positions in adjoining dimensions, and Lucas' plan to switch them back. Mike and Sgt. Reece were skeptical, having never heard anything like this in their entire lives. But they chose to go along with the plan in order to placate Jo since she appeared to believe the two mysterious men's unbelievable tale. This guy, Henry, would simply board a certain subway train at a certain time later on that evening and their strange ME would emerge from it. Oh, sure.

"And then can we take you back to your mother's house?" Sgt. Reece asked Jo. "Great!" she said after Jo had agreed. "Okay, then," she said, looking around at all of them. "Let's get this show on the road."

vvvv

"Here," Lucas stated and came to a stop on the subway platform. He checked the time on his phone, 7:33 PM, then brought up the image of their Henry boarding car #1779 at 7:43 PM the previous Wednesday evening, and making sure that all the others saw it, too. Turning to Henry, he once again instructed him to "Just get on, sit or stand, probably doesn't matter, and ... ride it back home. We'll all board the train right behind yours and offboard at your stop. Hopefully, you guys will have switched places by then."

"Sounds so simple," Henry said. "This whole affair has turned my life upside down; his, too, I warrant, and it was all because he boarded a subway car branded with the same number as the year we were both born."

"Hey, maybe you could, uh, pay us a return visit someday, then," Lucas said with a big grin.

Henry chuckled and replied, "With all due respect, I'm perfectly content to remain in my own ... " he looked around and lowered his voice, "place."

The PA system announced the approach of the particular train and people began readying themselves to board. Henry bent down and grasped Jo's hand with and squeezed it.

"It was a true pleasure meeting you, Detective. Try to keep an open mind when my counterpart returns. He had to have met with as much upheaval as I have, leaving him a changed man. The man simply must now realize what a treasure you and the baby are. And if he doesn't - " he paused, looking up at the other Mike from under a furrowed brow and added, "Detective Hanson has plans to give him a good - talking to." He smiled and kissed the back of her hand.

"He used to do that, too," she said with sad remembrance. "He used to be ... such a gentleman." Jo quietly thanked him and lowered her eyes.

Henry then turned to Abraham. The two men embraced and pulled away from each other, smiling. "You remind me so much of my own son. He has to be very proud of you."

"Aw, well, I dunno about that," Abraham replied, rolling his eyes and blushing. "But if you ever get a chance, come back and visit anytime."

Henry then turned to a sheepish and slightly disappointed-looking Lucas, wanting to thank him but unable to find the right words. "Oh, bloody hell," he said under his breath. He placed his hands on either side of the young man's face, pulling it closer to him and planted a chaste kiss on the side of his mouth. He released him and smiled as he stepped back. "That's ... all I have. Sorry. I like women," he explained with a chuckle and a shrug.

"Hey, uh, more than I expected," Lucas replied, grinning and brushing his fingers over the spot where Henry's lips had been.

The others looked at each other with raised eyebrows and smiles but not only because of the sort of kiss. Of course, Lucas and Jo believed this man and his incredible story. But Mike and Sgt. Reece remained skeptical and were especially bewildered by Henry's remarks to Abraham that he reminded him of his son. Certainly, he couldn't have meant that he had a son the same age as the elderly man. He meant his personality ... or something. Right?

The train pulled up to the platform and slowed to a stop. Car #1779 opened its doors right in front of them and passengers offboarded, keeping to their right, as those boarding did likewise. Henry exchanged polite nods with the other Mike and Sgt. Reece, skepticism still evident on their faces. But before their very eyes, the number of the car changed from 1779 to 1814.

"Did you see that? It changed from the year of our births into the year of our first deaths," Henry whispered.

"Better get on before the doors close, Henry," Abraham urged him. Lucas, Jo, and even Mike and Sgt. Reece began to urge him to board the car, which he did and they boarded the car right behind his. The train closed its doors and pulled away.

The ride was as uneventful as before to Henry but he made a conscious effort to remain awake this time. The anticipation was building in him as the train approached his stop. To his wonder, the strange light in the tunnel appeared once again, swirling clockwise this time as an opening widened at the center. As before, no one else seemed to be aware of it except him. At least, no one else reacted to it. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears and he swallowed several times to undry his throat but he managed to stand as before, holding onto a hand grip. Was he going home or would he be pulled into yet another strange dimension? He started to squeeze his eyes shut as before but changed his mind. He wanted to see everything, anything, if there was anything to see and braced himself as the train passed through the center of the strange light.

The pitch, sway, and loud rumble of the train suddenly subsided. Still holding onto the overhead hand grip, he also became aware that his fellow passengers had become a muted blur. He watched in awe as a dark-haired man resembling himself appeared before him. They were surrounded top and sides by a smoky version of the lights and colors resembling the Aurora Borealis. The colors all changed briefly to red as they studied each other in stunned silence. Although neither man uttered a sound, there was an exchange of thoughts and feelings that made each understand the other. A trace of a smile was the last thing either saw of each other for in the next moment, the pulling and snapping effect was felt and the dark-haired man's face vanished.

Henry's senses were suddenly bombarded once again by the train's motion and its loud rumblings down the tunnel and his fellow passengers clearly emerged from their blurred state. The car slowed to a stop and at the sound of the alert that the doors were opening, he released his hold of the overhead hand grip and offboarded with the crowd. He managed to walk over to a pillar and huddle against it as he waited anxiously for a certain group of people to meet him from the car directly behind his. They'd boarded the car right behind the one he had rode in, right? Where were they?

The crowd on the platform eventually thinned out enough for him to cautiously round the pillar to see if the familiar group of people he longed to see was there. Filled with relief, a broad grin broke out on his face when he saw Abe, Lucas, and the others slowly walk out of the train car and onto the platform.

"H-hey, there, Henry!" Abe shouted with outstretched arms and a wide grin. The two men quickly advanced upon each other and embraced, laughing. Pulling themselves apart from each other, Abe patted his father on the shoulder and bid him "Welcome back! Welcome back!" to which he happily replied, "Great to be back!"

He looked around and his gaze fell on Jo. Lovely as ever. Not in a wheelchair. Not pregnant. His Jo. She returned his intense gaze then walked determinedly up to him and held her hand over his chest. He enclosed her hand in his and gently but firmly pressed it against his chest. When she felt the scar tissue from the wound on his chest through her hand, she smiled while struggling to hold back tears.

"It's you," she whispered. "It's really you."

He placed his hand on her cheek and brushed away her tears with his thumb. "Yes, Jo, I'm back," he chokingly told her, fighting against his own tears. "I've missed you so much." Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he told her, "And I have so much to tell you." Oblivious to everyone and everything else, their lips had barely touched when Lucas shouted.

"Look!" Lucas said, pointing to the car that Henry had been on. "The number was 1814 when it rolled up, then it changed to 1779 right in front of our eyes before the other Doc got on. Now, it's changed back to 1814."

A perplexed Mike slowly looked around at the others and announced, "I need a stiff drink. Who's with me?"

They all, including Reece, laughingly agreed to meet at McSorley's the next evening to truly welcome Henry back. But tonight a long overdue conversation between Henry and Jo was in order. As unbelievable as it was for them to find out about Henry and his condition, including elderly Abe being his son, and that he and a doppelganger from another dimension had switched places, it all seemed to fit with their quirky ME. And, boy, did they have a lot of questions for him to answer. A lot of questions.

vvvv

Dimension Two ...

The other Henry Returns from Dimension One Back to Dimension Two (Deleted Scene) ...

It was 7:33 PM Wednesday evening as the small group, including Lt. Reece, stood on the subway platform with the other Henry. Like their dopplegangers in Dimension Two, Reece and Mike remained skeptical of the other Henry's claim not only to living his life as an Immortal but living it in another dimension. They were there only to support the others until the truth unfolded, revealing this dark-haired man who resembled Henry so much, as some kind of outlandish fraud. They fully expected to eventually arrest him and have him checked out in mental institution. The image Lucas had shown them on his cell phone of their Henry boarding car #1814 at 7:43 PM the previous Wednesday evening, did nothing to sway them from their belief that this was some kind of trick or scam going down.

"Just get on, do what you did last time, I guess, and ... you should soon be back home. The rest of us will ride the train car right behind yours and get off at your usual stop. Hopefully," Lucas concluded, "you guys will be switched by then."

"Sounds so simple," the other Henry said. "All of this happened just because he boarded a subway car branded with the same number as the year we both first died."

"Maybe that would be a way for you to come back and visit us someday," Lucas said, grinning.

The other ME replied with a mock frown, "No offense, but I'd rather not."

As they waited for the PA system to announce the approach of the train, he turned to Jo and bowed slightly, smiling. "The best part of my visit here, Detective, has been to meet you. I'm sure that my counterpart has met with as much upheaval as I have, leaving him a changed man. He simply must now realize what a treasure you are." He smiled, took hold of her hand, and kissed the back of it.

"Wow, um, thanks," Jo chuckled nervously. "Such a gentleman." Jo quietly thanked him but her thoughts fell to Henry. A substitute Henry was not enough for her anymore. She prayed that this idea of Lucas' would work so that she could get her Henry back.

The other Henry sheepishly turned to Abe, who had been very vocal about being there only to reclaim his father. Not for this changeling. The two men had not really spoken but the other Henry felt compelled to mend this fence before leaving for his own dimension. Words failed him right now, though, and it didn't help that Abe chose to silently scowl at him with crossed arms like fixed bayonets. Henry cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something but Abe cut him off.

"Whatever you have to say, save it for your own son when you get back home," Abe calmly advised him. "Seems to me like you and he have had some pretty rough times between you."

"You're right," the other Henry sadly replied. "We have. But I have been the unwelcome intruder in your home and I sincerely apologize and the fault falls squarely on my shoulders for what happened last week."

"It, it was an accident anyway. Ya scared me, dammit!" Abe quickly replied, uncrossing his arms and pulling back from his hardline stance a bit. "Look ... when you go back home just ... give him a hug and ... be a Dad again. That's what I want. I want my Dad back."

The other ME pursed his lips into a painful smile and nodded. "Sound advice," he said. "Wise. Like my own son." He then stuck his hand out and grinned broadly when Abe grabbed it and shook it.

Whether Reece or Mike still had their doubts or not, they were moved by the two men's interaction; especially by the elderly shopkeeper's admission that he missed his father. Henry. _Their_ Henry. Was it really possible? they thought.

He then turned to an awestruck Lucas, who unhesitatingly flung his arms around him in a crushing bear hug. After a few uncomfortable moments, he began to pat his arm as a signal for him to release him from the embrace. Eventually, the others had to join in and help extricate him from Lucas' grasp.

The train pulled up to the platform and slowed to a stop. Just before the doors on car #1814 opened, they saw the number of change from 1814 to 1779.

"The number changed," Reece whispered, astonished.

"Yes," the other Henry said, just as astonished. "It changed from the year of our first deaths into the year of our births."

"Go, go, go, get on before the doors close, Henry," Abe urged him, as did all the others. He quickly stepped into the car and they boarded the car right behind his. The train closed its doors and pulled away.

The ride was as uneventful as before to Henry but he made a conscious effort to remain awake this time. The anticipation was building in him as the train approached his stop. To his wonder, the strange light in the tunnel appeared once again, swirling clockwise this time as an opening widened at the center. As before, no one else seemed to be aware of it except him. At least, no one else reacted to it. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears and he swallowed several times to un-dry his throat but he managed to stand as before, holding onto a hand grip. Was he going home or would he be pulled into yet another strange dimension? He started to squeeze his eyes shut as before but changed his mind. He wanted to see everything, anything, if there was anything to see and braced himself as the train passed through the center of the strange light.

The pitch, sway, and the loud rumble of the train suddenly subsided. Still holding onto the overhead hand grip, he also became aware that his fellow passengers had become a muted blur. He watched in awe as a dark-haired man resembling himself appeared before him. They were surrounded top and sides by a smoky version of the lights and colors resembling the Aurora Borealis. The colors all changed briefly to red as they studied each other in stunned silence. Although neither man uttered a sound, there was an exchange of thoughts and feelings that made each understand the other. A trace of a smile was the last thing either saw of each other for in the next moment, the pulling and snapping effect was felt and the dark-haired man's face vanished.

Henry's senses were suddenly bombarded once again by the train's motion and its loud rumblings down the tunnel and his fellow passengers clearly emerged from their blurred state. The car slowed to a stop and at the sound of the alert that the doors were opening, he released his hold of the overhead hand grip and offboarded with the crowd. He managed to walk over to a support column and huddle against it as he waited anxiously for a certain group of people to meet him. They were on the car directly behind the one he had ridden in, right? Where were they?

Just as Henry had when he'd returned to Dimension One, the other Henry offboarded his subway car and found himself in his own dimension again. As he waited next to a nearby support column for the crowd to thin out, he eventually was reunited with the group of people he knew, including his son and his Jo. The two most important people in his life at that moment. For soon there would be a third: his and Jo's unborn child. Seeing them again made his heart leap for joy. A joy he hadn't felt in decades; not since he'd been saved by Abigail and baby Abe and they'd spent years as a proper family.

Without hesitation, he gleefully threw himself into his son's arms gathering him into a crushing bearhug, apologizing for his past behavior and telling him how much he loved and missed him. Abe, at first startled, had gladly returned the embrace, forgiving his father, telling him that he'd never stopped loving him, and welcoming him back home.

Next was a huge embrace for Lucas. "Something told me that you would be the key to finding a way for the other fellow and me to return to our rightful places. I simply can't thank you enough, Lucas!"

"Um, well, the other Henry planted a big, sloppy one on me. You could do the same." Lucas waited hopefully with a bright smile.

After a moment's hesitation, the other ME released a held breath and said, "Well, why not? You basically saved my life, after all." He placed his hands on either side of the taller man's shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks ala the French. "Sorry," he said to a visibly disappointed Lucas. "My real kisses are reserved for ... " he paused, turning to look at Jo and continued, "the woman I love." His smile faded into a serious expression and he swallowed before adding, "If she'll forgive me." He took in a deep breath and exhaled. "I sincerely apologize, Jo, for all my bad behavior. I was a fool. You and the baby mean the world to me."

"Really, Henry?" she asked. He nodded in response, now on one knee in front of her.

"Let me make things up to you, darling. Please?" he asked. "I promise you, things will be different." He touched his hand to her round belly and added, "For the three of us." Abe cleared his throat and not missing a beat, he corrected himself. "For the four of us."

The others chuckled, even Sgt. Reece and even Mike. However, as they all walked toward the escalators (elevator, for Jo), Mike leaned over to him and confessed that he had been that close to being beaten to a pulp. But in light of recent events and because he'd apparently turned over a new leaf, Mike promised not to follow through on his previous threat. That is, as long as he kept his promise to never hurt Jo again.

"You have my word, Detective," the other ME assured him. "I have no desire to be beaten to a pulp, as you say. I love Jo very much and intend to prove that to her every day. Besides ... the Hudson is freezing at this time of year."

Over the next several weeks, the other ME worked hard to mend the fences of his broken relationships with varying degrees of success. It would take time, he realized, of which he had plenty. He and Abe's relationship was on a more even keel and he and Jo were back on track and planning for the arrival of their son. She soon gave birth to a healthy baby boy they named Joseph Henry Abraham Lucas Michael Morgan, incorporating all of their names. Life for the other Immortal ME was finally becoming good again.


	10. Henry Morgan's Dark Side Ch 10 - END

The murder cases in both dimensions with virtually the same cast of characters, so to speak, came to slightly different resolutions.

Our Henry back in Dimension One (two months later) ...

A reminder of the crime from Chapter 6: Nathan Bishop and Paula Frierson, both 26, had been found dead in their East 6th Street apartment from an apparently have been poisoned. Their elderly friend and neighbor, Mrs. Alouetta Periwinkle, had given a statement that she chose not to call 9-1-1 right away because the couple's symptoms appeared to indicate that they had the flu. However, by the time that the two Henry's had managed to get switched back to their own dimensions, the case had taken a slightly different turn.

"Maeve Thomas occupies the apartment down the hall from our victims and Mrs. Periwinkle," Jo told Henry, Mike, and Reece as they attended a briefing in Reece's office. "She said her conscience could not be quieted after hearing Mrs. Periwinkle's account of what happened." They all listened intently as Jo continued.

"According to her, Periwinkle and the young couple were not friends. Apparently, she objected to them 'living in sin' but still participating in their church. She'd berated them more than once during the short time the couple had lived there. Periwinkle even was heard threatening them, that the wages of sin were death, that they'd suffer for their transgressions." Jo dropped her notes to her lap and looked around at all of them. "You get the drift."

"Sounds like a religious fanatic," Mike remarked. "She killed them to punish them for their evil ways?"

"Anyone corroborate Mrs. Thomas' story?" Reece asked.

Jo consulted her notes again before replying. "Several from their church, including the pastor; and the building manager and several other building residents. Seems that Mrs. Periwinkle was a very opinionated church lady."

Henry sat uncharacteristically silent but obviously absorbing everything with a soft, pleased smile. It was good to be back home, back in the fray, back with his colleagues and running down potential leads. He couldn't help but compare the details of this case with the one presented in the other dimension. Could it be that Mrs. Periwinkle here was more sinister than the one in the dimension he'd recently left?

"Doc, you catching all this?" Mike asked of his unusually quiet colleague.

"Yes, yes," a broadly smiling Henry replied. He took in a deep breath and let it out. "It's just that being back here, discussing this case ... it's like a breath of fresh air for me."

"Not if you'd been in that apartment," Mike muttered, shuddering, to which they each struggled to contain their laughter out of respect to the deceased.

vvvv

Henry and Jo embraced and kissed on the rooftop terrace above the shop. They pulled away from each other, smiling and enjoying their private time together. Finally.

"It's sad that we had to charge that little old lady with a double homicide," Jo began, "but you were just chomping at the bit to get back into the hunt, weren't you?"

She was really happy that he was back and that after a long, overdue conversation, they'd recently come to an understanding of a romantic nature. And the recent revelations about his immortality? That was just part of the package of Henry Morgan, she told herself. Something she looked forward to dealing with for many years to come.

Hmmm. The hunt. He recalled the other Abe having accused him of having the look of a hunter when he'd chosen to go off and help in the other dimension's case. "I was simply ready to resume helping to bring another criminal to justice - no matter how old they might be," he told her with a sly smile.

"To think that all of this came about just because I boarded a certain subway car on a certain date at a certain time." He smiled whimsically at her and asked, "By the way, what year were you born?"

"Never you mind. Let's just say it was many years after you were," she smilingly replied. "Why?"

"Well, you might want to avoid ever boarding a subway car numbered the same year as that of your birth. It might take you on a much longer ride than expected," he explained. "And I speak from experience."

vvvv

The other Henry in Dimension Two (two months later) ...

He read over the crime scene notes (from Chapter 7) which included extensive ones left by his doppelganger, of an elderly woman, Mrs. Alouetta Periwinkle, who'd apparently died in her sleep while doing needlepoint. Her body had been found in a sitting position on her sofa, the scent of both lavender perfume and the deadly combination of honey and oleander lingering about her.

"He was very thorough in his observations," he told his colleagues, closing the file. "It appears that his presence here in my absence was a very helpful one. I wonder how he'd feel if he knew that the true culprit was the initially cooperative witness, Maeve Thomas."

"I'm sure he'd be happy to know that the true would-be murderer was caught," the other Jo remarked. He was as determined as you always are in that regard."

"Weird that those two dummies thought the other had actually poisoned Mrs. Periwinkle," Mike said.

"Hmmm. Yes. The toxicology report showed that they and her sister, Mrs. Thomas, visited her with the specific intent of spiking her teacup with their own deadly concoctions of honey and oleander," Henry stated.

"To think that all a person needs is a credit card and an Internet connection to order almost anything," Jo bemoaned. "Even something as deadly as that poison."

The poisonous substance had been purchased from a website called "Pretty Poisons" set up by a group of grad students looking to supplement their income and pay down student loan debt. Once the story of Mrs. Periwinkle's death had hit the news, the site had been taken down but Google was cooperating with authorities to identify the admins of that domain and a similar site called "Lethal Ladies".

"Poor old lady never had a chance," Mike said. "First she gets taken for thousands of dollars by them and they plot to kill her so they won't have to pay her back! And at the other end of the hall is her own sister, Mrs. Thomas, who plotted to kill her so she could inherit what was left of Mrs. Periwinkle's retirement before the other two cleaned her out."

"So, instead of going to the authorities or trying to help her, Mrs. Thomas just plotted to take her own sister out before the other vultures did," Jo said, shaking her head.

Mike shook his head, frowning. "What. Is. **Wrong**. with _some_ **people**?"

vvvv

The doorbell at the home of Isabel Martinez rang and she left her daughter, Jo, and new grandson to answer the door. She looked through the peephole and huffed, then looked at Jo. "It's him."

"Mama ... "

"Todavía no puede entrar en mi casa!" (He still can't come in my house!)

"Mama ... we talked about this already," Jo said wearily as she bottle fed little Joseph.

"No!" Isabel replied, raising her voice and both hands. She walked away from the door, shaking her head.

"Mama!" Jo called after her. "Por favor! He's here to see his son. Mama!"

Isabel came back and stood at the edge of the living room, not hiding her displeasure from her daughter.

Jo put the bottle down on the coffee table and rose from the rocking chair with the child in her arms. She walked over to her mother and passed him to her. "Aguanta a Joey por un minuto, por favor. Hablaré con Henry afuera." (Hold Joey for a minute, please. I'll talk to Henry outside.)

Isabel grudgingly took the baby at first but almost immediately began to smile and coo at him as she walked back into the living room. She picked up the bottle and resumed feeding the last of the formula to him.

Jo sighed and walked over to the door and opened it. She stepped out onto the porch, closed the door, and called to Henry, who had given up waiting and was slowly walking away. He'd reached the sidewalk and turned sharply back around when he heard her call his name. She beckoned to him and he quickly walked back to join her on the porch.

"Mama's still not ... " Jo paused, sighing. "She's still not forgiven you," she quietly added. "It's gonna take time."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Understandable. And her misgivings about me are not without merit." He looked wistfully at the house and asked, "How is Joey?"

Jo smiled and replied, "Getting big. Smart. Takes everything in with those big, brown eyes of his."

"I'd ... like to see him but just because I'm still not welcome in your mother's house doesn't mean it would be a good idea to bring him out into this bitter cold," he told her.

They stood in silence looking at each other for several moments. Then, averting their eyes away from each other, Jo said, "Look. I've decided to return to my house tomorrow."

Henry snatched his head back to her, blinking. "Does your mother know?"

"No, but it doesn't matter," she replied with a sigh. "This is her home and she has every right to deny you entrance if she wants but it's affecting our lives. Joey's, yours and mine." She shrugged against the cold and shoved her hands deeper into her sweater pockets. "Come see us tomorrow evening at my place," she told him, looking deeply into his eyes.

He nodded and swallowed, then pulled a small envelope out of his coat pocket. "This is for Joey." She took the envelope from him and opened it, finding a check inside. He pulled a key out of his pocket and held it out to her. "And this is for you."

It was a key to the antiques shop. "Henry - "

"Actually, it's for me," he told her, interrupting her. "In case ... " he pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," she breathed out. "Oh. Okay. Sure." She pocketed the key and the envelope with the child support check in it and shuddered against a slight but frosty gust of wind.

"You'd better go back in," he told her, concerned. "It's getting colder out here by the minute." He awkwardly kissed her on the cheek and turned to leave but she reached out and grabbed his coat's lapel, pulling him back toward her. She kissed him fully on the lips and he stepped closer, placing one hand on her waist. They ended the kiss but remained close to each other as she touched her hand to his cheek.

"We'll get back there, Henry. It'll just take time," she whispered. And now she knew that he had all the time in the world.

"I, I know. And thank you, Jo," he told her and pecked her again on the lips before he left.

She scurried back into the house out of the growing cold and watched him through the front window as he disappeared down the block. He'd made a lot of progress mending fences since his miraculous return from another dimension. She strongly felt that he was a changed man in spite of her doubting mother. She was choosing to go with her gut. And because of his immortality, she knew that their son would always have his father. Forever.

vvvv

Back in Dimension One ...

It had been a long, exhausting day at the OCME for Lucas Wahl. He loped up the stairs to his apartment building and let himself inside. He paused to pick up his mail from his box and groaned when he saw the return address on two of them.

 _'These student loans are killin' me!,'_ he groaned to himself. He shoved them into his jacket pocket and decided not to spend the evening wallowing in self-pity over his mounting debts. So, he headed back to the subway and descended the stairs to the lower platform. Where he was headed, he wasn't sure. Maybe his aunt and uncle's house in Queens or meet up with his friend, Pepe, at their favorite bookstore. Pick up the latest edition of "Slasher" magazine. The sound of the approaching train brought him out of his thoughts. As it slowed to a stop, he boarded the car but failed to notice that the number on the side of the car in front of him was 1984. The same year of his birth. Ohhh, myyy.


End file.
